Incorruptible: The Dementor's Stigma
by Matt Silver 3k
Summary: A year has passed since the dead started returning to life, and the fate of the world depends on the best and the worst of humanity, the wizards and the Muggles, with politics and the undead in between. A Harry Potter Zombie Apocalypse Fanfiction.
1. Chapter One: Insects

_Standard Disclaimer_ _::_ All things Harry Potter belong to JK Rowling and affiliates. This fanfiction is a non-profit venture written for the enjoyment of myself and my readers.

_Pre-Story Introduction_ _::_ Just so there's no confusion, the AU divergence of this story from canon starts at the end of the Battle of Hogwarts, but the story itself is set in 2002. Backstory is explored as time goes on, so roll with it for now. Look, zombie apocalypses and politics! And one more note, about the title. I'm aware that technically, it should be The Dementors' Stigma, but again, roll with it, unless it's annoying enough that I should change it, and fast. Zombies!

_Dedication :: _To Seratin, Lutris, Zeitgeist, Vira and the others on DLP, for putting up with my insanity, for reading early drafts, and just being there.

..::..-.-..::.

_Incorruptible: The Dementor's Stigma_

_By Matt Silver_

..::..-.-..::..

_Chapter One of Sixteen: Insects_

..::..-.-..::..

A year ago, when the dead started returning to life, what was left of humanity showed their true faces; they became either the best of us, or the worst of us.

The pureblood agenda would tell those who'd listen that the worst of us were the Muggles, and that we, the wizards, were the best of us. To me, it didn't matter. Muggle or wizard, you could be bitten, and when that happened, you _would_ die, coming back soon after as nothing more than a shambling monster with an insatiable taste for human flesh. I didn't dwell on this undeath. It was life I was concerned about, and in a world ravaged by this outbreak, one could never be too careful about losing theirs. Careful and cautious; common sense was the best tool in anyone's arsenal.

There was no better time to exercise that common sense than a supply run, and there were eight of us armed for today's scavenging trip. Headed up by Head Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt, the team - myself excluded - were all fully trained Aurors and Hit-Wizards, or in the case of Ron and the younger two members, were close enough. The first thing we did today - the first thing we always do - was scout out the target from a distance: a supermarket, one of those larger chain stores that was stocked to meet the demand of three towns all within the same area.

"I've got four over here," said Auror Proudfoot, directing our attentions to the family of four zombies milling about near the supermarket's car park. In the daylight, especially on sunnier days like this one, the grotesque features of the undead were illuminated for all to see. Stray bits of flesh melted off of their faces as they dragged their legs behind them, mouths agape and droning out a low moaning sound, as dull and mournful as one of Professor Binns's lectures. They puttered around aimlessly, shambling and shuffling, moaning and groaning, searching for anything resembling their next meal. If they smelled it, if they heard it, or even saw what _looked_ like a tasty human being, their focus would be on that instantly.

"Ron, how many do you see?" Kingsley asked, taking Proudfoot's Omnioculars for himself and looking through them.

"Same as before - twelve," Ron said, his own pair of Omnioculars glued to his face as he scanned the town below.

"Got about thirty hanging around the town square," I warned.

Kingsley nodded, his face a mask of calm. "Duly noted."

Under our feet, the undead were moaning in protest. The four of us were situated on the well-barricaded roof of the town's primary school, the second-highest vantage point offered to us. We could see most of the place from up here - the residential areas were spread out around the school in a mundane pattern, criss-crossing about and leading into the town's main streets, where, off to the side, the supermarket was located. The rest of the town and a look at the roads beyond was blocked by an austere clock tower smack dab in the middle of everything. And, of course, where there were houses and shops and clock towers, there were the walking dead hanging around in between.

When the outbreak had hit, people packed into cities like sardines in a can began to spread the infection at an extraordinary rate. If one infected individual died, he or she would reanimate, and then go on to bite another person, who would die, reanimate, and repeat the process again. It was a chain reaction that was impossible to stop, and it hadn't been. This town was like the others, like the bigger cities, and the highways in between. The walking dead owned this world now.

"Kingsley," I said, breaking the older man out of his count. "There's a small pharmacy, right around the corner from the supermarket. Five walkers outside."

He adjusted his Omnioculars. "I see it. You need to go?"

"The Muggles are running low on antibiotics. It'll be worth a look, and I know what to look for."

"Take Ron, and Davies when he gets back."

I nodded my thanks. We kept up our scouting for another few minutes before three loud _crack_ noises broke the lull, one after another; the rest of the team, apparating in. The first was the tall and wiry Auror Savage, who nodded to Kingsley, rattled off a number and wandered over to help Proudfoot, flicking the other man's ponytail with a finger and earning a thick-jawed scowl in return. Hit-Wizard Strauss, a comfortably older-looking veteran of both Voldemort wars, and Ryan Davies, his nineteen year-old apprentice, appeared next, informing Kingsley of their own reports of the area before starting ritual exercises in wand safety. A few more minutes passed before the last member of the team, Auror-in-training Lara Wilkinson, returned. But when she did, her face was stark-white under sunny-blonde hair, and her hands were pale. I immediately thought she had splinched herself or something, but discounted that thought just as quickly.

She was scared. Genuinely, totally, mind-numbingly, scared.

I, as the team's Healer, and Kingsley, as the team's leader, were at her side first. "Lara, what happened?" I asked carefully.

"She's new," Savage said disdainfully. "Probably just saw a scary walker."

Proudfoot snorted, but I ignored them both and instead focused on Lara, who was having difficulty getting the words out. After a moment, she shuddered and began to talk, quietly and fearfully. "The next town over... _Mist_."

Oh shit. Mist meant Dementors. Dementors were very, _very_, bad news.

Ignoring the fact they were the _source _of the initial outbreak, they immediately took advantage of the chaos and broke free of their lodgings underneath Azkaban, for the first time in centuries a free roaming species able to wreak havoc all over. They dined on souls up and down the UK, growing in number at any opportunity by settling themselves down after a feed and reproducing immediately. An unnatural mist would hang over the air of their breeding grounds, and the mist itself became a telltale sign of their presence. If you saw the mist, you'd be smart to run - or, in our case, disapparate - as far away as you could. The Muggles had no comprehension of these monsters, but they _something_ lived in the mist, and they knew to run. We knew that while the undead could be combated and put down for good by destroying their brains, the Dementors would ceaselessly roam the wastelands. They were out of control, and were the real threat out there.

"I saw it from the clock tower," Lara explained shakily. Kingsley was busy reviewing the Omnioculars recording she had given him, and I was making sure she wouldn't pass out, jabbing my wand forward and murmuring the occasional spell to keep her upright. Savage was right about her being new to this - hell, she was younger than I was - and not everybody adapted to going out into this new world as well as some did. That even the _thought _of Dementors could make a grown wizard curl up in a ball and cry was enough reason to hit her with calming spells.

"Are you completely sure?" Savage pressed.

"She has no reason to lie," said Strauss, the age lines on his cheeks frowning along with his mouth.

"She could've seen a Blubbering Humdinger for all we know!" Proudfoot burst out.

"But she didn't," Kingsley interjected. "There's no mistaking that mist, but this doesn't change the mission. We are always prepared to deal with them. Everyone here can cast a Patronus Charm, and I know that for a fact."

Of course, only me, Kingsley, Strauss and Ron could pull off a fully corporeal Patronus, but I kept my mouth shut. As one of my old teachers used to say, positivity was a form of Healing itself. As one of my older, much more favoured, teachers used to say, stop arguing and get to it. The longer we stayed out here, the chances of a Dementor encounter went up.

"... the plan goes ahead," Strauss was saying. "However, we leave someone on the clock tower to watch the mist, to be sure none are heading in our direction."

"No way," Proudfoot said stubbornly. "Not a chance. We should ditch it and leave, right now. No risk, no harm."

"There are vital supplies in there," I said flatly. "We come back tomorrow or next week, and this town could be the Dementors's next nest."

"Then it's not worth the risk!" Savage snapped.

"I'm sorry, do the words 'vital supplies' mean nothing to you two, or -"

"I agree with Harry," Kingsley said, cutting me off. He pointed to Savage. "The clock tower is your responsibility. We'll take an hour to get what we need. Report to me half an hour from now and bring the Ominoculars - just because _you_ didn't see something doesn't mean you didn't miss something, understand? The Dementors will be easier to spot in the daytime, but that doesn't mean we shouldn't exercise some vigilance. Go, Auror Savage."

With a disappointed sigh, Savage turned on the spot and disapparated. In the school below, a few zombies moaned sorrowfully at the noise.

"Ron, Davies, you're with me," I said. For Davies's benefit, I pointed out where we were going. "Apparate to there, keep your wits about you, and guard the front while Ron and me get what we need. Got it?" He nodded nervously, and I turned to Kingsley. "We'll join you soon.

"If anything happens to me, you're in charge."

"Comforting, putting the twenty-two year-old in charge," I groused in good humour. "Also, try not to get lost - I have a Wizengamot session later, and they'll yell if I show up late because I was busy looking for you."

Kingsley smiled wryly. "Be careful Harry." And with that, he disapparated, followed by Strauss, Proudfoot and, after she took a moment to compose herself, Lara.

On my three count, Ron, Davies and I disapparated to the street below. Immediately, the five walkers I spotted earlier turned our way and began their steady, determined, gaits towards us, arms raised, their mouths wide open and dried bloodstains showing on their teeth.

"I'll take the two on the right," I announced, but before I finished speaking I'd already nailed one with a Piercing Curse; aimed at the centre of its forehead, backed by a bit of _oomph_ to push the spell through the cranium and into the frontal lobe, killing the zombie properly, instantly. Ron took my signal and aimed at the two on the left, while the one in the middle, an overweight and balding man wearing a very bloody business suit, was left for Davies. It didn't take much doing for the rest of them to go down. Preferred methods varied from person to person, especially in dealing with small, manageable, groups in an open area like this. I liked keeping things simple, and so did Ron. He used brute force, bludgeoning heads with bursts of brightly-coloured magic, gory showers of blood erupting into the air and chunks of skull and brain matter flying everywhere. We took care of our pairs, and I was about to take care of the one we left for Davies, still walking, when its head began to shake and tremble. The zombie's skin tone soon resembled that of a plum, before its head simply exploded under the pressure like a balloon, spraying a pinkish mist all over the vicinity.

The headless corpse fell to the ground beside its comrades, and I turned to Davies. "Nothing fancy," I chided; I'd recognised his spell, and it wasn't the best for this kind of work. It required a complex arm movement that would've been impossible to pull off in closer quarters and, had circumstances been different, he would've been eaten.

"Sorry," Davies muttered.

In the distance, I heard the sound of a window breaking. I ignored it and strolled forward, scanning the front window of the pharmacy as I did, getting a look at the layout from the outside. "Looks clear."

A hand, nearly rotted to the bone and stained with dried blood, slammed against the glass, and we all stopped. I heard the muffled moan coming from inside the store before the zombie itself appeared, a young man missing one of his eyes, its gaping maw mashing up against the glass in an attempt to eat us from inside the pharmacy. "Well... it _looked_ clear," I corrected. Ron snorted and ambled forward again, and I followed.

"There's one over there!" Davies suddenly shouted, and I pivoted on the spot to look. He was pointing down to the far end of the car park, where a lone walker had appeared from around the corner, dragging itself towards us.

"Then take care of it," said Ron, dismissing the situation entirely.

"But..." Davies hesitated. _"Alone?"_

Did his voice just crack? _Really?_

I sighed, remembering that I was responsible for him right now. I caught his eye and spoke calmly, "Davies, what has Strauss taught you on how to deal with situations like this one?"

The kid, who for the first time looked as young as his age, nodded. His voice was soft as he said, "He told me to try and make them less scary, you know, in my head."

"Like a Boggart. Sensible."

"I know it's just one, and it's so far away, but... It only took one to start all of this, didn't it? I heard -"

"Davies, you're ignoring Strauss's advice. If it took just one to start this, and it didn't, it would not've started in the middle of a car park with three fully-trained wizards there to deal with it. And you _are_ fully trained, so remember that. These things are like Inferi, but different. They'll walk through fire to get to their meal, and they're not under anyone's control... The walking dead work on instinct, and die only one way." I made a gesture, slamming a fist into my open palm. "Aim for their heads, destroy the brains."

"I know, I know. Stunning spells, stuff like that, won't work."

"And that's all there is to it. So, now, tell me what'll make them it less scary to you. You've got the tools, you know what to do."

He paused, and I did too, though a bit of annoyance seeped into me as I realised I could be spending this time getting those antibiotics. "Insects," Davies said eventually. "Bugs. When I was little, I was really scared of bugs. Even the small ones. I wanted them to go away, and I told myself I could just step on them." He smiled shakily. "Squashy squash."

"Exactly," I said. "These things are insects. There's a whole lot of them and they're easy to take care of, because, as you said, squashy squash."

It wasn't really sound advice, but it was what he needed to hear. Realisation dawned on his face, and his features visibly steeled. He walked away from us slowly, bring his wand to bear and holding it steady in his hand. A single jet of light shot out of the tip, and the approaching zombie dropped like an insect, the top half of its head rolling off down the street.

"You were so much meaner before you became a Healer," Ron joked.

I headed over to the pharmacy door, where the zombie inside was still pounding at the glass, pressing itself forward, _thunk_, _thunk_, _thunk_. I pushed the door open with a bit of force, swept the thing off its feet, and splattered its brains on the floor with a forward thrust of my wand. Another walker was waiting by one of the nearby shelves, and a single steel spike flew over a row of feminine hygiene products to embed itself in its eye. It dropped the ground, making more than a little clatter as it crashed into another shelf.

"I still have my mean side," I murmured to myself.

..::..-.-..::..

We finished up quickly. I filled my bottomless satchel with bottles of pills, and Ron's own sacks were filled with the rest of the store's stock, chocolate bars included. I didn't even have to dissuade him from collecting all the electric shavers; he'd learned his lesson from last time. We left the pharmacy and headed down a ways, turned a corner, and walked into the supermarket's main car park. Cars, of all shapes and sizes, were still parked there, some boasting broken windows, some covered in bloodstains, some having both, and more than one had a corpse or two sprawled inside. There had clearly been a panic to get supplies from the supermarket, and it had ended with a zombie attack. I could feel the spent chaos in the air, whether it be because of a stray bloodstain, a car upturned in the middle of a lane with all doors wide open, or even the few zombies milling about.

The appearances of these walkers told different stories; who they could've been, how they could've been bitten, everything and nothing at the same time. One man dressed in a jogging tracksuit, who couldn't outrun a horde in time. One slightly overweight woman with a chunk of her lower leg missing, bitten by her own child. A half-naked teenager who partied a bit too hard and woke up being chewed on by his friends.

They were proper corpses after an encounter with the business end of my wand, and were out of my mind by the time we reached the supermarket's entrance. From the outside, it looked relatively intact, with only a few shattered windows and a spray of dry blood on the wall; which was really about the norm for buildings these days, so no matter. Two sets of automatically sliding double doors were our way inside, though the power had been cut by now and they weren't moving automatically. One set was clamped around a rotting corpse, and the other was wedged wide open and held as such by nothing - Kingsley's group, no doubt. The three of us walked in, following a trail of corpses as we did.

The supermarket was big - bigger than the local one the Dursleys used back in Surrey at least - with a dozen or so aisles facing us as we entered, dulled signs pointing out what products each aisle held. The smell of rotting corpses was present, as always, mixed in with what I could only assume was the smell of refrigerated meat turned unrefrigerated and left out for a year. Sections for fruit, vegetables and for frozen foods were pushed to the back of the store, while a deli sat on the far right and a bakery on the far left. The chaos of the initial outbreak showed here and there, with capsized shopping trolleys choking aisles and boxes and cans of food lying haphazardly on the ground. The shelves weren't all that empty, I noticed. There must've been only so much shopping the panicked Muggles had gotten done before things went to hell, and nobody had tried coming back.

I was about to announce our presence when Kingsley wandered out from one of the aisles, trailed closely by Lara. She looked a little better; the colour had returned to her cheeks, and she wasn't shivering anymore. Healer me nodded in satisfaction.

"Got what we needed," I said when they saw us, "and more. Our friends at Granford and Liliford will be happy."

"They better be," Proudfoot said darkly, appearing from behind Kingsley and Lara. "Why we help those Muggles I haven't the foggiest, but -"

Kingsley turned and _looked_ at the man. He didn't say a thing, and I couldn't see the look on his face, but I could see the look on Proudfoot's, his expression turning belligerent but his mouth snapping shut. I quite enjoyed that, honestly. There's a reason Kingsley's the best leader a team like this one could ask for; hazard control.

I heard a sharp crack from behind me, and turned to see Savage waltzing in, sparing only a single glance at the corpses along the way. He tossed his Omnioculars to Kingsley, who caught them and instantly pressed them to his face to review the recorded footage.

"Don't bother," Savage said. "Whole lot of nothing out there. The mist hasn't so much as twitched since we arrived."

Kingsley still took a moment to check for himself, and so Savage wandered over to Proudfoot and asked, "How many did'ya get?"

"Seven," Proudfoot boasted. "Dumb fucks never saw it coming."

"I'm pretty impressed," Ron said transparently. "I didn't know you knew which end the spells came out of, Proudfoot."

The two Aurors glared at him, and just because I was standing nearby, me as well.

"It was four, actually," said Strauss, walking out from the deli side of the supermarket. He pointed to one of the larger, broken, windows near the front of the store, one I noticed earlier. "Made quite a noise. Missed two in one go."

Proudfoot said nothing. To add insult to injury, Lara piped up, "And I got the one by the trolleys, not you."

"Enough," Kingsley said firmly. He handed Savage's Omnioculars to the man forcefully. "Strauss, what did you find?"

"Security office had two inside, and I took care of them. The deli and the frozen food sections are too far gone, of course, and don't even get me started on the seafood section." The older man shuddered. "It was about five minutes before I remembered to put up a Bubblehead Charm," he lamented.

We all got a little chuckle out of that, cutting through the tension in the room that was swimming in the air around Proudfoot, Savage and everyone who didn't like them - so, you know, everyone but Proudfoot and Savage.

Without further ado, Kingsley called for us to split up and start scavenging, sending me and Ron towards the bakery. A supermarket of this size would be an undertaking for a group of Muggles, and they would throw more people and expend vital supplies to get _less_ than a small group of us could obtain. Every scavenging team has a list of things to specifically be on the lookout for, and given that we could carry just about everything in our bags or by shrinking them, there was no limit in how much we could get, even the things nobody really needed. We had to be conscious of the Muggles more than anything - these supplies, while in need for the good wizarding folk, were in dire need for the Muggle settlements of Liliford and Granford, the two largest communities that had sprouted up out of the ashes. Both towns were being supported by us on the sly, with supply drops being "found" by our people on the inside and aid being rendered in every way possible without breaking the Statute of Secrecy.

But _that_ was another issue entirely, and as long as I had a seat on the Wizengamot, it _would_ be resolved.

To cut a long story short, the next hour went all according to plan. Ron and I split off after raiding the bakery, and I soon found myself bumping into one of the team in the canned goods aisle.

"Savage?" I said in disbelief, dropping a can of peaches into my bag. "Why aren't you on the clock tower?"

He waved a hand dismissively. "Nothing to see, and Shacklebolt had to take Strauss with him to kill the curious dead pricks wandering up this way."

I nodded, remembering the group I'd seen in the town square. "So... I'm in charge then."

Savage sighed, rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated, "Yes..."

"So what have you found then?"

"Food."

"Like?"

"Rice."

"Oh that's good. Granford's short on rice."

"They are."

"Well it seems you're doing them a personal favour by collecting rice now, wouldn't it?"

"Yes."

"And if I were to check it, say before I dropped it off to them later today, there wouldn't be any curses on the rice packets, would there?"

He narrowed his eyes at me, and I returned the gesture. "Carry on then," I said.

So, very deliberately, I turned my back and walked away from him. He wouldn't curse me in the back - he was unpleasant and a bigot, but not stupid. I continued my walk up the aisle, flicking and swishing my wand and levitating the canned foods off the shelves and into my bag. At a certain point I attempted to juggle five cans in the air, but my concentration was broken and the cans went down with five identical, all-too-loud _thunk_ noises when I heard Lara cry out:

_"Dementors!"_

I turned my head and gestured to Savage, who was standing stock-still in the aisle but didn't need to be told twice. The two of us walked out of the aisle, wands in hand, and I spotted Lara ducking behind one of the checkout counters. She was pale and shaking again, and I ducked down and waddled towards her.

"You okay?" I probed. She nodded shakily.

"Are you sure it's Dementors?" Savage asked without preamble.

"Two of them, coming into town," said Lara. "I went out to see if Auror Shacklebolt or Strauss were coming back, and I saw the Dementors instead."

"They strayed from the mist," I said. "Why?"

"Maybe it's just routine... Maybe they smelt us out."

"From a town over?" Savage said incredulously. "Are you serious?"

"Regardless," I cut in before an argument could start. "We need to get the others and get out of here before they get too close. They get too close and you'll have trouble apparating out."

"But what about -"

"Kingsley and Strauss will be fine, Lara. We'll worry about the others first. Last I saw, Ron was heading for the storeroom by the loading dock." I turned to Savage. "And Proudfoot?"

"Fruit section," he said. "I'll get him, and you go for the storeroom. We meet back here."

Lara looked stricken. "And Davies?"

"I don't know," Savage said with a shrug. "I think Kingsley told him to guard the front when he and Strauss went off."

"I'm sure he's fine," I said reassuringly.

I wasn't quite sure. In fact, given that we were at the front and Davies _wasn't here_, I was pretty fucking unsure right now.

"You should leave right away," I said to Lara. "Go back to Hogsmeade and do what you're trained to do." She nodded and disapparated on the spot, and Savage and I peeled off. I cast a look at the sky outside before heading back down the aisle I came from. It was bright and sunny just minutes earlier, but was now greying subtly in the presence of the two Dementors. It'd only take the two of them to make this supermarket very dark and very cold within the next few minutes. That in mind, I vaulted over the cans I dropped earlier and bolted towards the storeroom.

"Ron!" I called out. "Come on, we gotta go!"

The door to the storeroom was wide open, and I could see nothing but darkness as I ventured inside cautiously. I called for Ron a few more times, and received no reply. Well, until I heard a dull moan. Instantly, the tip of my wand was lit, and I found myself face to face with a walker in the dark. It was an older man, the tip of his nose missing and his hair all but wisps on his wrinkled head.

We both acted at the same time. He lunged for me, and I swung my wand out wide. A jet of purple light hit him in the chest and took a chunk out of it, and he was swept off his feet by the force of the spell. He writhed on the ground, trying to stand back up, but I didn't let him.

"Sorry," I muttered, flicking my wand. The Piercing Curse drilled into the zombie's head and splattered blood not only on the floor, but on a pair of boots: Ron's, in fact.

"Nice one," he said, nudging the corpse's head with his boot. "I heard you yelling. What's going on?"

"Dementors. Probably here by now. I gotta go make sure Proudfoot and Savage get out okay, and find Davies after that. So you should head off."

He snorted. "Nice try. Come on, we'll go find him together."

We left the storeroom and returned to the supermarket proper, but something had changed. The place was dark. And quiet. Too bloody quiet.

I didn't call out for anybody this time. Ron and I extinguished the lights on our wands. By feel, we cautiously navigated ourselves towards the cereals aisle, and I tried to make out any shapes in the darkness.

I let out a frustrated, but quiet, breath, and it was immediately visible front of me. Gooseflesh erupted on my arms. Cold seeped into my bones. The unnatural chill of a nearby Dementor, one I knew all too well.

The aisle seemed to go on too long and the darkness sitting at the front of the store looked omnipresent, eternal. It felt like we walking towards a thick fog, a blanket of despair and cold, dark and all-encompassing. Uncertainty sprang from inside of me - where were the others? Were they dead? Had they just left? Were Davies and Proudfoot found in time? But, most importantly of all, where were the Dementors?

"We should go," Ron whispered. "Harry..."

"I know, I know," I whispered back. "But there's something..."

_There._ A form huddled behind a checkout counter, an outline in the darkness. It was shivering, and as we got closer, I could hear soft sobbing sounds coming from it. Or rather, him. It was Davies.

A gust of wind picked up from inside the store, and the sound of a cloak whipping through the air followed - the Dementor was there, and it was advancing on us.

I needed no more encouragement. I thought hard, searched my mind and summoned a happy memory of a woman with blonde hair, buried deep within my subconscious. One came to mind immediately: the two of us enjoying a nice breakfast after a thirty-six hour marathon shift at St Mungo's. We were giddy with laughter in our sleep-deprived states, and had, sometime during our shift, made a bet on who would fall asleep first. I won when she slumped forward on her chair and ended up burying her head in a plate of pancakes. That was a happy memory. I could use that.

_For Sarah..._

_"Expecto Patronum!"_ I cried out. It took a moment, but the tip of my wand exploded in a burst of white light, and it formed into a thick shield, breaking through the darkness and almost returning the entire supermarket to the sunny mid-morning it was at before. The Dementor, a figure draped in a dark cloak and hood floating in the air with an almost-predatory laziness, stopped in its tracks and froze on the spot as the light began to shape and form, to coalesce into something recognisable - the stag Animagus form my father could turn into. The Dementor, upon seeing the corporeal shape, with the big horns and all, turned tail and glided away, only to be followed by Prongs. The Patronus cut a swath through the darkness at the front of the store as it followed the Dementor outside.

I didn't relax. The cold was still there, and with the Patronus outside, the darkness returned. One Dementor remained. My Patronus wouldn't last for long either, and the other Dementor might just come back with a vengeance. I had to act quick.

"Ron," I said, my voice suddenly hoarse. He was still there, and I could see his face in the din - he was sweating in concentration, his mouth half-open and his wand squeezed in a tight grip.

"Couldn't find... Couldn't find a good memory," he said lowly.

"And I just lost one," I muttered, the fleeting happy memory in my head turning bloody and violent, as most did. It wouldn't ever be a happy one again, I knew.

I tried to summon up another memory, just to be sure, before I remembered something.

"Davies!"

I ran forward, and Ron followed. I made out the spot where Davies was in the darkness, but something had changed. He wasn't moving.

"Davies!" I called again, and a familiar whipping sound was my reply. I thought of winning the Quidditch Cup in my third year. _"Expecto Patronum!"_

This time, mine wasn't the only Patronus in the fray. The stag was joined by Ron's terrier, the two of them rushing forward and pushing the remaining Dementor into retreating the same way its friend did. It was near the door when I heard another voice cry out, _"Expecto Patronum!"_ and a luminous, yet formless, burst of light smacked into the Dementor's side.

I don't think I'll ever be happier to see Savage and Proudfoot ever again.

"Shacklebolt and Strauss still haven't come back," Savage said upon seeing the two of us, his tone offering no feeling of animosity nor friendliness.

"Couldn't help this kid though," Proudfoot grunted, stepping forward and prodding Davies's form, still curled up in a ball, with his foot. "They Kissed him."

We all took a moment of silence. Savage's idea for a moment of silence seemed shorter, though.

"Well, let's get what he has."

Proudfoot nodded, and with a wave of his wand, Davies's body crumpled and went prone on the ground, face-first. I watched as they removed his bag and dumped the supplies he had gathered in their own bags. When Savage began patting down his cloak pockets, I stepped in.

"Leave it. _Him_," I said firmly. "We're taking the body with us."

"Do we have time?" Ron asked.

"I'll side-along it." I looked at Savage and Proudfoot. "No objections?"

They shook their heads. "Okay, you two can go on the count of three. One, two -"

A blood-curdling scream erupted from Savage like a fierce flame, and he fell to the ground. We all tried to act at once; my Piercing Curse managed to stab him in the stomach, missing the reanimated Davies as his teeth pierced Savage's neck and sunk in, _hard_. Blood spurted out and splattered on our legs, and Proudfoot let out a loud, guttural, roar, waving his wand and blasting Davies off of Savage with a burst of force.

The zombie flew halfway across the store and slammed into a checkout counter, the audible sound of bones cracking as it did. Tension filled my stomach, and Ron and I held our wands steady, ready to strike Davies down when he stood up again. The darkness of the Dementors had gone, and the returning sunlight allowed me to catch a glimpse of Davies's fully reanimated form.

Tall, fair-haired, and young. Dark, fresh, blood smeared around his mouth, staining his teeth an unpleasant crimson colour. Eyes a dull white, yet they gleamed slightly in the light. The dislocated shoulder and twisted arm gifted by the checkout counter Proudfoot slammed him into. No visible bite marks. No bite marks _at all_.

That... had not happened since The Dementor's Stigma, a year and a lifetime ago. When you get bitten by a zombie, you die and come back as one. That's the rule. I hadn't seen a reanimated corpse like this since the initial outbreak, after The Stigma killed and reanimated those affected. The disease itself died off shortly after the entire world was going around eating each other, and I'd seen no more cases of it since. But this wasn't The Stigma, either. There were no black lesions, no signs of fever and a slow death.

The Dementor had Kissed him and removed his soul, hadn't it? But this time, it had left something behind. Madness. Rage. Hunger. Instinct. A Dementor had just created a zombie on the spot, getting its fill of soul food along the way.

Davies eventually moved, dodging Ron's first spell in the process, and I noticed he moved fast. Faster than any zombie I'd ever seen. Faster than a corpse should move.

A sickening thought filled me with dread. What if he wasn't dead? When the Dementors Kissed somebody, they left them brain-dead, a shell of their former selves, and they all died eventually. But this time, the Dementor that fed on Davies left behind enough to become like a zombie, but alive.

Holy shit. This was new. This changed things.

But it didn't change one thing: Davies was out to kill and eat us. Ron knew it, and that's why he kept flinging spells. I knew it too, and I took careful aim.

Davies was coming fast, but he was zig-zagging to avoid Ron's volley. Ron's spells came out at timed, predictable, intervals, and I took advantage of that. When Davies moved to the right to dodge a spell, letting out a screech of displeasure as he did, I tripped him up with a Trip Jinx, and we didn't let him get back up. A Blasting Curse from Ron took off his head completely, leaving the fleshy stump of his neck behind, spurting blood as the corpse fell to the ground like a fly with its wings cut. A dead insect. Squashy squash.

"He was still alive," I said to Ron.

He didn't say anything. He was too busy pointing his wand at someone behind me.

The tip of a wand buried itself in the back of my neck.

"Heal him," Proudfoot said shakily. "Heal him now."

Savage, of course. A bite in the leg from Davies to make him go down to the ground, and a bite in the neck to finish the job. The leg wound wouldn't have killed him right away, but the fever would've ended his life eventually, and his unlife would start soon after. The neck wound meant more blood had been lost, and if a vein had been hit, he would bleed out within minutes. Worst of all, it wasn't something I could stop; the bites told of the undead's magical origin and, like any good cursed wound, there was simply no way I could wave my wand and stem the bleeding. Spells, potions, Muggle medicines... They were all useless.

Proudfoot knew all of this.

I turned slowly, my wand hanging at my side. I looked at Proudfoot, trying to convey what needed to be conveyed: _Savage was a goner._

"No." Proudfoot shook his head, anguish evident on his face. "You heal him. Right now."

"And how would I do that?" I said quietly. "How, Proudfoot? Magic up a way to stop the bleeding? Tried that before. Make a cure in the one minute it'll take for him to bleed out? Not likely. Spent months looking for a cure before I gave up. Don't even think there is one."

"But you're a _Healer_."

Something snapped inside of me, rage bubbling to the surface. My left hand slapped Proudfoot's wand out of my face. "Fuck you. I can't do anything, and you know it. I've tried before. Many times. And it won't work. He's dead."

"No he's not!"

"He is! Do you need me to tell you how? Why? Do you want me to tell you I have a cure waiting in the wings? Do you want me to save him?" Something bitter entered my voice, and I spat, "Do you want me to _heal_ him?"

"Yes."

I didn't tear my gaze away from Proudfoot's as I flicked my wand. A single spell shot out, and hit its target soon after; the Piercing Curse drilled into Savage's brain, killing him instantly.

We were all silent for one very tense minute. Proudfoot's mouth opened, and I saw fire in his eyes right before Ron Stunned him. The Auror slumped to the ground, unconscious, his wand rolling out of his hand as he did.

"Thanks," I said hollowly.

"You're welcome."

"We should get out of here before the Dementors come back."

Ron nodded. "Couldn't agree more, mate. But..." He hesitated briefly. "What did you mean, about Davies being alive? He wasn't."

"He was." I left Proudfoot and Savage's forms and wandered over to Davies. A cursory check confirmed my suspicions. "There aren't any bite marks, Ron." I checked again. "No lesions; no Stigma signs. He was Kissed with a little extra tongue, as it were. Did you notice? He was showing some kind of intelligence."

"Instinct," said Ron. "When he was dodging my spells. And he was fast."

"A regular walker is a corpse that's walking around, trying to eat us. A walker has all the intelligence of a corpse. Davies was still alive, and whatever the Dementors left in him was this single-minded predatory need to feed, and because he was still alive, he had enough brain function to dodge you... It didn't stop him from being taken down by my Trip Jinx because he was still a single-minded creature. You were his main target, not me."

Ron let out a low whistle. "_Way_ beyond me. You going to tell Bill and the rest?"

"Yeah, but... Let's keep it between us for now. I don't know what to make of it all."

He agreed, and we spent a minute gathering up the corpses, and Proudfoot, together for a side-along apparation to the designated meet-up spot. We were about to head off when Kingsley and Strauss apparated into the store. They took one look at the two corpses and to us, then back to the corpses again. The blood drained from Strauss's face upon seeing Davies's headless corpse, and Kingsley looked at Savage's body with pity.

"What happened?" he asked.

"Sorry," I said, though it felt hollow to my own ears. "Dementors. Two of them. And uhh... in the chaos..."

Kingsley nodded understandably. He would understand, I knew. Things happened sometimes despite best laid plans. Kingsley wasn't much for letting the guilt show, but I knew the loss of two lives would eat at him.

"I need to know everything," Kingsley said. "Why is Proudfoot unconscious?"

"He reacted badly to Savage's death," I replied. "He'll have it rough, but I think it's best we keep him off duty for a bit. After we -"

"I'm sorry, but..." Strauss swallowed heavily, still looking at Davies's body. "Can we not do this now? I mean, he just... He was just a kid."

"No, you're right," Kingsley said sympathetically. He looked at the bags filled to the brim with supplies we had gathered. "You did good. We all did good. In fact, you'll get some free time, if you want it."

Ron's eyes lit up. I knew what he was thinking about. I didn't want, nor need, time off, and before I could tell Kingsley that, I checked my watch, and swore. "The Wizengamot session's already started. Dammit, I have to go." I nodded at Kingsley and Strauss, and sent a pointed look at Ron. He nodded back, and I knew he wouldn't spill on Davies's death. Satisfied, if only with that rather than anything else that happened, I turned on the spot and disapparated.

..::..-.-..::..

Hogwarts was built to last through anything and everything over the centuries, the entire area protected by a ring of mountains, the Great Lake to the south and the Forbidden Forest to the east. A boundary wall made of stone ringed around the parts of the castle not protected by the forest or the cliff overlooking the lake. The defences had been overcome by Voldemort a few years ago, but it was a concentrated effort that required multiple people on the inside working for three-quarters of a year to bypass the defences for those outside. A horde of undead would have a lot more trouble, especially given the population inside the boundary and under the protections of Hogwarts had tripled since the initial outbreak. Built to last, with people inside to protect it.

It wasn't just a school anymore. When Diagon Alley was overrun and the Ministry was abandoned, everyone ran for Hogsmeade and Hogwarts, where the slight outbreak there was quickly taken care of and strict quarantine policies on dealing with the infected put to use. The halls of Hogwarts were now home to the Ministry's administration staff, with the Minister himself locked up in an office on the seventh floor. The grounds themselves held the rest of the Ministry, departments and offices replaced by rows of tents on the lawn.

The esteemed body of the Wizengamot met in the Hogwarts Great Hall, and that's where I was headed. The two Aurors manning the main entrance gates quickly determined that the blood I was covered in was not my own, and that I wasn't infected. The gates swung open soon after that, and I kept a brisk pace as I made for the front doors, nodding to the various Aurors and security wizards along the way. I made sure to clean the blood off, too; wouldn't want to give the wrong impression.

"You're late," the Hit-Wizard guarding the Great Hall said, before opening the double doors for me anyway. The groaning and creaking sound, old and tortured, they made in opening made me glad I wasn't aiming for a quiet entrance.

Every head in the hall turned my way, and I met no gaze as I walked in, my footsteps echoing on the flagstone floor. The four house tables were gone, replaced with a large, rectangular, oak table with matching, stiff-backed chairs, twenty-one in all. Only sixteen were occupied, and I made my way to my usual chair in between Neville Longbottom and Bill Weasley. I sat down without a word, my gaze moving to the high table, those sitting up there looking down on the rest of the room from their raised position.

Chief Warlock Tiberius Ogden had no need to chastise me for being late - the flat stare was enough. He was a short old man with skin resembling a dried prune and a head of thick white hair, and although he looked larger than life on the Headmistress's usual seat, I knew him to be a bit more genial in private.

"Now that Healer Potter has joined us..." he started, his voice strong. "We can discuss the events that transpired earlier today. Your team's routine mission of gathering supplies did not go accordingly, we have learnt."

I turned my head and shared a look with Neville. "There are more important matters to discuss," I said after a moment. "This meeting is supposed to be about the issue of disclosure -"

"Which we've already talked about, Potter," Christian Selwyn said, sitting in his chair opposite me on the right side of the table. He was smirking. "The general quorum's discussion was interrupted when young Auror Wilkinson, a member of Head Auror Shacklebolt's team, _your_ team, returned to report to her superior."

Selwyn tipped his head towards the high table, to the chair right of Ogden's. There sat Samuel Stark, the Senior Undersecretary who was, nine meetings out of ten, the representative of Minister for Magic Gawain Robards. Stark held dual titles of Senior Undersecretary and Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, but he was barely an Auror, a paper-pusher at best, so Kingsley handled the more practical side of things for the latter poistion. Either way, if Lara had returned alone and was forced to report to a superior...

Everyone knew something had happened today. Lara had been forced to tell Stark; I shouldn't have let her go back first. For all she knew, we were all dead at the time she relayed the report, that a Dementor attack was imminent.

I had to think fast. "Regrettably, there was an incident today."

"What kind of incident?" Angus MacMillan asked.

"Two dead," I said bluntly. "An unfortunate tragedy, and one that could've been avoided, yes, but it was a risk the two were always aware of. It happens more often than we all wish it did, but people die out there."

"Miss Wilkinson said it was Dementors," Ogden said. "Was she correct?"

"Yes. We drove them away, but in the confusion, one of our people were killed, he reanimated, and caught us by surprise."

"And what were two Dementors doing there?" Leo Parkinson asked snidely. I got the feeling the question was rhetorical. "More importantly, what were you all doing there if you knew they were nearby?"

So Lara _had_ spilled about the mist. Dammit. "We needed the supplies, and we got them," I said. Beside me, Neville winced.

Selwyn's smirk widened, but it was Parkinson that spoke up again. "You split up, correct? Sent one person to watch the mist, and all but three of you were doing your duty."

"No, we were all doing what we had to."

"What did the girl call it again? A pharmacy? You were at this pharmacy with two others - Weasley was one of them."

Parkinson was not alone in instigating me, and Selwyn piped up, "You were looking for Muggle supplies, weren't you?"

I let out a frustrated breath. "_Yes_. I was gathering _vital _supplies for the towns of Liliford and Granford." I saw Selwyn's mouth open, and I cut his next statement off with a wave of my hand. "Just say it. Just say that if we hadn't've split up, the three of us could've helped speed along the scavenging at the supermarket, and we could've gotten out of there before the Dementors showed up."

The others stayed silent; I think I said enough for them. Ogden held up a placating hand and cleared his throat. "Gentlemen, please. Healer Potter is not on trial, and we do not need to dissect today's events in any further detail. A tragedy, nothing more."

Selwyn nodded. "I accept that, but today's topic of discussion indirectly led to that tragedy." I let out an incredulous snort, and Selwyn continued, "Am I incorrect? For months this body has debated on the issue of disclosure, a proposal to save the Muggles, what little of them there are left. This disclosure would have us reveal the existence of magic to them, to break the Statute of Secrecy and create a joint society in a devastated world... I must argue that two wizarding lives were lost today, simply because Harry Potter chose the Muggles first."

"Two lives were lost, Christian," said Dylan Brown. "To save countless others with these supplies. Show some respect."

"Two _wizard_ lives were lost," Selwyn countered.

"Not worth the cost to save some Muggles," said Bulstrode.

"I do not wish for _anybody_ else to die," MacMillan said firmly. "We have to -"

Brown shook his head. "The disclosure -"

"- is going nowhere," finished Parkinson. "We've been discussing it for months, but the vote hasn't been called yet..."

"Because _certain_ members don't seem to take this seriously," Bill said, leaning on his words with pointed looks at the empty chairs by Selwyn and Parkinson.

One of them was Draco Malfoy's, a part of me noted. I could almost imagine the mocking comments: "So who died, Potter? I'm going to guess it wasn't Weasley, despite it fulfilling a dream of mine," or "Dementors, was it? I'm almost proud you came out of your fainting spell long enough to only lose _two_ people."

Come to think of it, I'm glad he wasn't here. Selwyn was bad enough.

"They seemed not to have attended because the vote isn't happening," the man said with an easy shrug, as if three of the missing people - Malfoy, Harper and Burke - _weren't_ dissenters of the bill.

Parkinson nodded beside him. ""We must put this issue to a proper vote, and when it fails to pass, we can move on to more _important_ matters."

And then, well, the hall erupted in argument.

Despite the ultimate goal of the disclosure bill, I couldn't help but wonder if it was worth being here to see _this_. The purebloods were adamant about the uselessness of even discussing saving the Muggles, and they wanted to force a vote calling so they could make it definitive, once and for all. The group descended into arguing because everyone felt the pressure, and I sat back and said nothing, feeling plain tired with it all.

Ogden's wand snapped out after a minute, and a sharp cracking sound filling the air ceased all arguments. He, ever the peacekeeper, wore a placid look on his face as he addressed us, "I think," he said, "that will be all for today's session. We will reconvene next week, and the time and date will be sent out sometime within the next few days. The topic will concern the continual debate over the disclosure of existence of magic to the surviving Muggle population. Dismissed."

Selwyn shot me a triumphant look as he stood from his seat, but I ignored it. The group didn't linger in the hall; after shaking hands and exchanging various pleasantries, the place was soon empty of all but myself, Neville, and Bill.

"Are you okay, Harry?" Bill asked, his scarred visage marked with a thin frown. "Is Ron...?"

I wasn't really, but I assured him I was. "Ron's fine too," I added. Bill looked relieved to hear that. I looked over the rest of the hall, remembering one conspicuously absent face. "Where was Susan?"

"She escorted Wilkinson out of here to get an official statement," Neville replied. "Stark was busy, so..."

"Right. I don't get the feeling I missed anything new today."

"The usual," said Neville. "Talk of resources, some of the logistics of helping out the Muggles, who would be an ambassador..."

"And, of course, talk of purity of blood, the risk that the Muggles would one day rise against their betters simply because of their nature... The usual." Bill sighed. "I think we'll call today a loss, mate."

"In more ways than one," I muttered.

"They're going to keep calling for the vote."

"And if Ogden's pushed enough, it'll happen," Neville remarked. "Or else we risk losing him, and if that happens, we won't even be having the disclosure discussion. The purebloods won't spare a thought for the Muggles."

"If the vote's going through, and with twenty-one members... Two-thirds majority will be needed. We might not have that."

"We can work that out later," I said. I shook my head and stood from my chair, and Neville and Bill did the same. "Let's meet to talk about it, all right? Susan too. I have to go help Ron drop off the supplies to our Muggle friends. There's, umm, something we should talk about, too. Could be big."

They nodded in understanding, and let me go. I turned and headed from the hall, weighing the issue in my mind carefully. This disclosure _had_ to go through, and the Muggles _had_ to be saved. Maybe it was a lifelong response of mine, maybe it came with the territory as a Healer, but I would try anything and everything to save their lives.

I got the sinking feeling that the great game of the Wizengamot, however, might eat me alive.

..::..-.-..::.

"Come on Harry." Ron was at it again, trying to make himself feel less guilty by getting me to take some time off with him. He was concerned, and maybe channelling Hermione's ghost, but I didn't think it had hit me that hard. The losses of today weren't so out of the norm that it would, not with the world like it was, not with the experiences with Voldemort I'd had as a teenager. Not after losing Sarah.

But Ron kept trying. "Harry..."

"Ron, I'm fine. Not 'fine' fine, but actually fine. Tired, and maybe hungry, but fine. Can you hand me the rice?"

He did, and I plopped the bag into a nearby crate. We were dropping off supplies at an old bus station stop down the road a ways from the town of Granford. It was a routine - we'd hide the supplies from any Muggles that would pass by, and the Ministry would signal their people inside of the town about the new drop-off. The witch or wizard would then leave the town with their usual scavenging group, made up of Ministry operatives, head off for a few hours or days and come back with the supplies we dropped off earlier. Sometimes, a few Confundus Charms would have to be employed on some nosier Muggles, but the entire operation was all the aid the Ministry could give until the disclosure bill would pass. It had kept the Muggles afloat for months now, and that was the important thing.

Ron was definitely angling for some time off, and he did have a good reason for it. His girlfriend, a former classmate our age named Megan Jones, was stationed inside of Liliford, putting her Muggleborn background to good use and posing as a schoolteacher. If Ron got his time off, he'd call in a favour and get her out for a few days, setting up a Polyjuce double for her as he did, and enjoy some quality time with her. He would no doubt spend most of the time at the Ottery St Burrows, the collection of wizarding families that formed under the umbrella of Bill's leadership in the same area The Burrow once stood. I knew all of this, his grand plan, because he enthused about it every chance he got, trying to get me to come along as he did.

And, like always, he pulled the Teddy card.

"I think he'd like a visit from his godfather, wouldn't you think?" Ron said nonchalantly while stacking several cans of soup together. I resisted the urge to throw them at him.

"Teddy's fine," I said shortly. "Checked up on him for his birthday."

"What, six months ago? Godfather of the year right there."

"Look, as far as he's concerned, I'm the big strong uncle Harry who goes out and keeps the big bad Dementors away from good little boys and girls."

"Lupin and Tonks didn't make you his godfather because they thought you'd flake on their child..."

"Drop it, Ron. I'm not taking time off, I'm not going to check up on Andromeda, see your family, or anything like that. I'm very busy trying to prevent Selwyn and his friends from stopping this bill from getting passed..." I rubbed my temple, a gesture I used to do when my scar was hurting, but now I only did out of habit. "Take your time off, Ron. I know what you want to get up to with Megan."

The tips of Ron's ears turned red. "Well, that's beside the point..."

"Hey, far be it from me to stop you from getting a little action. Merlin knows you need it -"

"Oi!" Though he said it indignantly, he soon began to laugh, and I smiled. "You're jealous, mate. Not my fault you ignore all the very, _very_, attractive Medwitches you work with."

The smile dropped from my face. "With good reason, Ron. Kinda have rules against it."

"I'm just saying that it wouldn't hurt to, you know, try... How 'bout Lara?"

"Barely out of her teens."

"It's not like we're not."

I loaded the last bottle of antibiotics in the supply crate. With a flick of my wand, the crate was lidded up and covered up by a nearby bush. "Okay, we're done here. Liliford next."

We gathered our things and prepared to head off, Ron muttering to himself about the random girls he could throw me to. I let him, rolling my eyes the entire time, and once we were ready, I steeled myself and said, "Apparate in three, two, one..."

The sensation of apparation was familiar by now, but no less odd. It felt as if I was being squeezed in a thick tube, my arms feeling uncomfortably close to my side and my legs snapping together. My stomach flipped and flopped, and I was acutely aware of the day's events catching up to me, suddenly lightheaded. I shut my eyes for a second, and when I opened them, I was standing on a grassy hill. Ron appeared beside me soon after, instantly dropping his bag and sorting out the things that needed to go into the designated supply crate.

I joined him, ignoring the sudden prickle at the back of my neck, as if it was colder than it actually was.

"So what are your plans with Megan again?" I asked Ron, hoping to prevent him from railing on my own lifestyle.

He didn't disappoint, launching into a tirade about romantic gestures he picked up from a book, talking with an enthusiasm I hadn't seen from him since before Hermione died. He seemed taken with Megan, and that made me feel a little better. I couldn't help but think back to earlier, when he summoned his Patronus after failing the first time, and I wondered if it was because he thought of something that didn't have to do with Hermione, and all the sorrow that would come with. Hell, I had trouble using memories of Sarah, which was why the happy memories I spent summoning my Patronus disappeared soon after. I could hold on to them longer than Ron could, but they still disappeared eventually.

"There's this lake out by The Burrows - we went there once or twice when I was young, but when it was just the Ottery St Catchpole Lake, you know? At night, it's so wicked if the moon's full, and I bet she'll love it."

"Sounds great," I said absently, more focused on the task at hand.

Ron placed the last stray bag of crisps from his bag in the supply crate, nodding enthusiastically as he replaced the lid. "Doesn't it? I hope she can actually get a few days off. Kinda ruins the plans if she can't get away from the town for a bit."

"It must be..." I couldn't find the word for it, but eventually decided on, "Hard. I mean, she's right over the hill."

Liliford sat at the bottom of a valley, protected on all sides by large, grassy, hills. Roads went in and out of the town, but the main route of evacuation in case of a zombie-related emergency would be to go via the mines, which burrowed into the side of one hill and came a few kilometres down the road at an old mining station. The hills were well fortified, and, as such, didn't have many undead visitors. The town itself was run by an old navy officer who deserted when things went to hell and he decided to go home, and he kept things running without going mad with power or trying to institute too many restrictions. All wizarding reports to the Ministry told of him being smart and capable, a lot like his counterpart in Granford.

Ron looked a little disheartened when I mentioned how close Megan was, and he sighed tiredly. "I miss her, you know? And Bill and George and the rest at The Burrows. Merlin, I never realised how much I needed the time off, you know? It's probably the same to you, Harry. I know you, mate. You'll feel it eventually."

I matched his tired sigh with gusto, plopping myself down on the closed crate. "Look, if it'll make you feel better, I'll take a day or two off, okay? I probably need to catch up on some sleep anyway - can't have Selwyn outfox me because he gets more sleep, can I? But, Ron, just don't pressure me into trying to live normally in this... this completely fucked-up world. I don't think it's possible right now. So stop."

"Harry," Ron said, meeting my eyes, "I'm your friend. I'll never stop. If I didn't, Hermione would kill me, make sure I reanimate, and kill me again."

I chuckled softly. "All right, we're done here. Wanna go wave to your girl?"

"Yeah, yeah..." he said, though he walked down the hill anyway. After a second, I followed, chortling.

"Mate, I haven't seen you like this since Romilda dosed you with a Love Potion by accident. Do I have to get George to intervene..."

My words trailed off, hanging in the air. Shock and disbelief hit me, crushing my insides and twisting the remains into despair. I walked forward, but it was like walking through a blanket of darkness, waiting for a Dementor to strike.

Liliford's set-up had been perfect, and the town's leader had been competent and smart. He could deal with any situation and take care of his people.

Barring magical circumstances.

_Mist. _Thick, rolling, mist, hanging in the air at the bottom of the valley. The afternoon sun reappeared from behind a cloud, and the way the sunlight couldn't even penetrate the mist enveloping Liliford told of how _unnatural_ it was. It was cold. I had felt this cold many times, and not hours earlier I had been in the middle of it.

The Dementors had gotten Liliford.

..::..-.-..::..

_To Be Continued in Chapter Two: Ingrained..._

..::..-.-..::..

Post-Chapter Notes:

- _Next Chapter Tease ::_ Harry deals with the fallout, the Wizengamot gets political, and a visit to Malfoy Manor. And zombies, of course.

- _Wizengamot Scorecard ::_ The Wizengamot politics and the members involved are big parts of this story, but right now they're all just names, and as time goes on, keeping track might be for the best. Next chapter will go into which member is supporting which side for the vote, and the scorecard will reflect that, though for now, here's the member list, all but three familiar and canon names:

_Members_ _::_ Harry, Neville, Bill, Susan, Boot, Brown, Patil, Hart, Malfoy, Parkinson, Bulstrode, Selwyn, Gale, Harper, Burke, MacMillan, Smith, Diggory, Zabini, Aquilla and Cuffe. Presided over by Chief Warlock Tiberius Ogden. Member Count: Twenty-One.

- _Update Rate ::_ Chapters will be posted every two weeks. The story is completely written, all 240k words of it, but given chapter length - between 10k and 18k words, with a few exceptions breaching 20k - I thought it best to trickle them out a bit. Each chapter will have a quick recap of the previous chapter, however, because I know what it's like to open a new chapter after a couple of weeks and forget what happened last time.

Thanks for reading!

..::..-.-..::..


	2. Chapter Two: Ingrained

_Standard Disclaimer_ :: All things Harry Potter belong to JK Rowling and affiliates. This fanfiction is a non-profit venture written for the enjoyment of myself and my readers.

_Dedication :: _To Lutris, Seratin, Zeitgeist, Vira and the others on DLP, for putting up with my insanity, for reading early drafts, and just being there. Also, to all those who reviewed/favourited/alerted me or my story here, so cheers.

_Preface ::_ Apologies in advance for a bit of an exposition storm in the middle of the chapter. It's gone through enough revisions and rejigging that it literally stumped the story's progress for five months... only to end up exactly how I planned it in the first place. But yeah, it sets up the mini-storylines in the Wizengamot, so it's not like it's _not_ important information.

_Previously :: _A year ago, The Dementor's Stigma ravaged the world, those affected dying and coming back as the walking dead. The Muggles were all but wiped out, but the wizards continue to live almost as they were. Along with the undead are the Dementors, who now roam the wastelands, feeding and breeding; a telltale sign of their breeding ground is an unnatural mist. Two Muggle towns remain, Granford and Liliford, while the Wizengamot debate their continual existence in the form of a vote on a disclosure bill. Harry, a Healer who was there at the beginning, finds himself disadvantaged by the pureblood agenda's manipulations, and to make things worse, the town of Liliford has been found shrouded in the Dementors's mist...

..::..-.-..::..

_Chapter Two of Sixteen: Ingrained_

..::..-.-..::..

"Ron..."

"No."

"Ron."

"No no. I -"

"Ron, look at me."

It was Hermione all over again. A year ago I'd felt her loss too, but not as badly as he did. I lost Sarah before we lost Hermione, and that had shut me off. But Ron had recovered from his loss, was well on his way to moving on with Megan... and the town she was living in was now a Dementor breeding ground. Liliford was gone. Logic could scream at me all it liked, telling me that there was a chance some people were still alive and hiding out, but the shock, that numb feeling that hushed all logic, told me that there was nobody left. Liliford was gone, and its people had been swallowed up by the mist.

He didn't look at me. He wasn't looking at anything else but the mist.

My voice cracked in the chilled air. "Ron, I need you to just... just don't..." Fuck, I was a Healer, and they'd taught us how to comfort people, didn't they? But somehow, I didn't think a hollow, "I'm sorry for your loss," would be what Ron needed.

So I Stunned him before he could run down the hill and get himself killed.

"Fuck," I cursed. Ron's unconscious form was slumped on the grass, and his fingers were still curled in tight, angry, fists, his fingernails digging into his palms so hard blood had been drawn. "Fuck," I said again, for lack of anything else to say.

Muggles couldn't see the Dementors. Muggles couldn't ward off the Dementors. They would have no chance to rally against an invisible foe. If the Dementors that managed to Kiss them did what they did to Davies earlier today and made them into zombies, the chaos from an invisible foe turning people into zombies right then and there would be incalculable. We had a dozen people inside the town, and even if they knew the Patronus Charm, using it under Dementor pressure was a different story entirely. If one had gotten out in time... Why hadn't we heard about the attack yet? Was it recent? If so, were the attacking force of Dementors waiting for backup to arrive in the surrounding hills, or had they planted themselves down and started to breed already? The mist looked full, and thick, so they must've been here for more than a day, unless there were over a hundred of them...

The thought shot a chill down my spine. I had to react, and fast. I abandoned the supplies Ron and I were dropping off where they were, and grasped Ron by the shoulder. I apparated away, fighting hard not to splinch my side-along cargo as I did.

I reappeared in my room at the new St Mungo's in Hogsmeade. It was a simple little room, with grey walls boxing in a single bed, a drawer and a small desk, as utilitarian and unimaginative as the dozen others on this floor, all for hospital staff without their own homes thanks to the outbreak. It was also devoid of personal effects; I left my most important possessions locked up in Grimmauld Place in the middle of zombie-infested London, although I didn't live there. I deposited Ron's unconscious form on the bed, and, with shaking hands, fetched a Sleeping Draught from my bottom drawer. A few standard spells locked his jaw open and ensured he wouldn't choke as I poured the potion down his throat. I'd leave him to sleep off the next few hours.

I took a deep breath and thought about my next move.

The mines. I had to check the mines. The old mines were a series of tunnels that ran from one side of the hills bordering Liliford, and headed out for kilometres towards an old mining station rendered obsolete more than a century ago. When the apocalypse hit and Liliford's leader devised a back-up plan to get his people out in case of emergency, he chose the mines as an evacuation route, having a straight path lined and cleared out for safe use. If Dementors had attacked, the Muggles would've still known they were under some kind of attack even if they couldn't see their attackers, and they would try to run for the mines.

I exited my room and closed the door behind me, into a dull grey hallway with rows of wooden doors built into the walls. I walked across the hall and knocked on the door there, and sleepy Su Li opened it.

"Harry?"

I was direct and to-the-point immediately, something I knew she was appreciative of. "Ron's had a rough day," I said. "He's forcibly sleeping it off in my room, but I don't know if my draught will keep him down for long. Do you mind checking on him every hour or so?"

She blinked at me. Su Li was a diminutive woman with Asian features and dark hair, and was wearing customary Healer-green robes even her in half-asleep state; she must've just gotten off a shift and gone straight to sleep hours or minutes ago. As the only other survivor of our old Curse Healing team before the outbreak, I knew she was very reliable in a tight spot like this, and that's why I went to her first. Su didn't disappoint this time either.

She didn't even take a second to reply, "Of course," and I disapparated before she finished.

My third, and most tiring, disapparation within minutes took me to a small clearing ringed by trees: the mine's entrance. The station was overrun by overhanging trees shed of most of their leaves in the late autumn, and bits and pieces of old Muggle equipment was scattered around, all rusted brown and beyond use or repair. The tunnel into the mine was always open, a small sign recently put up by one of the Muggles indicating the way to Liliford in case somebody else found the mine before the town. The sun was nearly setting by now, and the tunnel seemed dark and oppressive from the outside. I lit the tip of my wand with a simple _Lumos _spell, and ventured into the dark mines.

To my dismay, there were no immediate signs that anybody had come through. Emergency torches were mounted on their brackets on the walls, and I saw both a first-aid kit and a small lunchbox filled with emergency rations lying on top of a big, smooth, rock, untouched.

"Dammit," I muttered, immediately aware of how the slight sound echoed in the cavernous mine. The air was thick with dust as I continued on, walking for the better part of ten minutes, the feeling of dread filling my stomach even more.

I eventually came to a fork in the path, with a helpful map pointing the way to Liliford. I walked down another tunnel, turned a corner, turned a second corner, and came up to the end of another path, with yet another corner to traverse at the end of it.

But something was different about this path. The only light in the tunnel came from my wand, bright white in colour and lightening the earthy brown tones of the mine around me. At the end of this path, I could see a small sliver of something white. Cautiously, I went up to the corner and turned, walking straight into a blanket of stark white mist. The feeling of cold, penetrating my skin and going straight to my bones, was immediate and overwhelming, and I just stood in the mist for a moment, trying to catch my suddenly short breath.

The Dementor's mist wasn't just a sign of their current breeding grounds. I wasn't a Dementor expert or anything, but I knew that they only bred if they had been fed recently. The idea we had to kill them off after their services as jailers were no longer required involved starving them in the pits of Azkaban. If they couldn't feed, they couldn't breed, and they'd die off naturally. But with the free reign they had now, the Dementors could start breeding anywhere, and they hadn't wasted time after wiping out Liliford. As I said, the mist wasn't just a sign of their current breeding grounds. They bred because they fed, and they fed on souls. The mist was what they reproduced in, what they were born out of, and the mist only came about because of their choice in food.

_Souls_. I was standing in the middle of a thick mist made up of consumed souls that were being used to breed more Dementors, and I felt the full weight of that. A flicker of one soul, just a single human thought left unthought, eaten and regurgitated by the Dementors, was enough to make me want to run. The weight of hundreds of souls was beyond anything I'd ever experienced. I closed my eyes and tried to ward off the cold, and when I opened them, I was still in the mist, the cold was still there, and I knew more than anything else in the world that I had to _get out_. I'd come here looking for possible survivors, but if the mist had spread into here... There was truly nobody left.

I tried to take a moment of silence for the lost souls, but panic set in first. I was still in the mist. It was everywhere around me, tickling my skin and filling my eyes and ears with an icy-cold watery substance. I tried blinking it away, but it wouldn't work. My wand was still in my hand, but the light shining on the end of it was useless.

And then I heard a familiar low moaning sound, and I snapped my head towards the source. Something dark was shuffling towards me in the mist, a formless shape that eventually became an outline of a human. By the pace and the moaning, I knew it was a zombie. Before the figure could get too close, I brought my wand to bear and loosed a Piercing Curse.

The figure crumpled to the ground. The sound echoed in the mist for what felt like a minute, and when it ended, I found myself holding my breath, hoping for the silence to stay... But that hope was squashed by more groaning in the din, and I made out several dark shapes heading my way.

I shot off a few Blasting Curses, and a few figures went down, but there was still more. The moaning was getting louder; the zombies had smelt out dinner. They couldn't see through the mist any better than I could, but they could smell and hear me. They couldn't feel the panic I was feeling. This was their territory.

I turned and ran. I ran and ran, like there was nothing else. Fighting through the mist, hoping like all hell that the moans of the undead didn't attract the attention of the Dementors. My footsteps were hard and I made sure not to slip. The mist was seeping into my eyes, and I closed them before they could freeze over. I kept on running, trying to hold onto my wand and keep my wits about me. The mist felt like it was smothering me, trying to hold on, and I hoped I was close -

I was. The cold disappeared, and I opened my eyes. I was still in the mines, but the mist was behind me, whisper-thin tendrils tickling at the back of my feet, calling and calling... I took a few more steps away, until the sensation stopped, and soon there was no mist, just the tunnel.

Relieved beyond measure, I took a moment to catch my breath. And although I felt like dropping on the spot and taking a nap for a solid day, there was still work to be done.

..::..-.-..::..

I apparated back to the Hogwarts gates, got let inside, trudged up to the castle proper, passed some more guards to go through to the Entrance Hall, got checked by another set of guards so I could head up to the seventh floor, navigated the ever-changing staircases and corridors, and eventually found myself walking into the Room of Requirement. While a part of me - my tired legs for one - realised that the walk took a good twenty minutes or so in my state, to the rest of me it felt like a blur. One minute I was at the gates, the next I was outside the Minister's office.

Actually, to clarify, the entire room wasn't just Robards's office. A small waiting area greeted me first, and four separate doors led to four separate offices - the Minister's, the Chief Warlock's, and the Junior and Senior Undersecretary's. Robards and Ogden both had living quarters beyond their offices, and an emergency tunnel to Hogsmeade was squirrelled somewhere in Robards's office, under his complete control like the rest of the room. I had visited the same equivalent area of the Ministry of Magic a few years ago, and this mock-up looked exactly the same as it did, with the fake potted plants, opulent gold-trimmed portraits of previous Ministers and thick marble pillars holding up each corner.

Since I hadn't made a habit out of personally visiting the Minister, that I was there in the first place convinced his secretary to let me in, and I pushed open the golden doors, announcing myself with a succinct, "We've got a problem."

"Heard the news, did you?"

Somehow I got the feeling he wasn't talking about Liliford. I made sure the door behind me was closed and that the anti-eavesdropping measures were active before replying, "What news?"

Minister Gawain Robards leaned forward in his chair, his expression grave. He was a bear of a man, broad-shouldered and with a mane of dark brown hair framing a thick and ruddy face, his once-wild beard trimmed neat on his chin. He was the former Head Auror, a student of Rufus Scrimgeour, and exuded a hard edge. Perfect leadership for a time of crisis after Kingsley resigned... in theory.

"I just got a letter from Barnabus Cuffe, the editor of the _Prophet_," Robards explained. "He's asking me for a quote on tomorrow's headline, about the petition for the disclosure bill vote to be within the next three meetings." He shook his head from side to side. "Ogden's going spare, doesn't even look like we can avoid it if the public opinion's turned against us..."

"They might have a bigger headline tomorrow," I said seriously, taking a seat at the base of the oak desk trimmed with sterling silver, across from his. "And the Wizengamot... It's Liliford. It's gone. Dementors got it - the entire town is mist, and the mines are filled with walkers... it's probably been like that for a few days, and if we hadn't heard anything before now... There's no survivors."

He reacted rather calmly. He scribbled something on a memo, enchanted into it a paper aeroplane, and directed it out a small slot in his door.

"Ogden," he said. "We'll need Ogden."

"You know what this means, right?" I asked. "What the purebloods will say. How they'll act."

"I understand, yes. They'll use this to their advantage."

"And counter our disclosure bill, by pushing for the vote. How many people did we have in Liliford?"

Robards sighed and steepled his fingers together. "Fourteen, plus two rotating watchmen outside the town."

"And we haven't heard from them?"

"We have not."

Sixteen people. Merlin, Parkinson and Selwyn had the Wizengamot by the ear by going on about two deaths just hours earlier, but now? Sixteen in a population of just over two thousand, killed because they were helping the Muggles, they'd say... and it would only get worse. We couldn't avoid the vote coming soon, not without compromising Robards and Ogden, and if we did that, the purebloods would take total control. And if the bill gets shot down permanently, would they go out and don Death Eater robes and masks one last time, to finish off Granford, the only town left, for themselves?

I shook my head of the thought. No, I couldn't afford to think I'd already lost the Wizengamot to people like Selwyn, despite the odds. I still had people and allies, and ways to subvert the Wizengamot without ruining the bill's integrity.

Ogden arrived in the office then, grabbing himself a seat beside mine. He shot me a warm smile by way of greeting, but looked impossibly tired and old immediately afterwards. "Liliford..." he said. "Hundreds of lives." He snapped his fingers. "Gone."

"We need a drink," Robards declared, pulling out a bottle from his desk and filling three conjured glass tumblers with a dark amber liquid. I took my drink and held it against myself, but didn't touch it otherwise.

"There'll be no avoiding it," Ogden said between sips. "We'll be putting the issue to a vote within the next fortnight. The purebloods will call for a traditional three meeting set-up, and demand the old ways be revived."

"I'll get the _Prophet_ to run it first," Robards declared. "No use hiding this. We should control it. Make it look like it was our idea." He grimaced. "That means dealing with Barnabus Cuffe..."

"Maybe we should put up some wards," I suggested. "In Granford, I mean. There'd be a fuss if we sent more people, but we'll at least have to ward the town."

"Wards? Why?"

"You know why. The thought occurred to you as well, Minister."

And it had occurred to Ogden, for he nodded. "A deliberate attack... by whom?"

"Who else? The pureblood agenda." I abandoned my drink on Robards's desk and leaned forward. "Think about it for a second. The world is struck by this outbreak, and it does Voldemort's job for him. The former Death Eaters want to remove the rest of the Muggles from the picture. We -" I indicated the three of us. "- are preventing that. Disclosing the existence of magic, abolishing centuries of work put into the Statute of Secrecy, offering the Muggles proper shelter and support rather than our little supply drops... We created this disclosure bill and floated it to the Wizengamot to make things neat and legal. The agenda has to play along, or risk ruining their magical utopia with another civil war."

"But they don't let us off so easily," Ogden said, smiling wryly. "Their calls for the vote have all been about closing the issue in a way they can take advantage of. If the bill gets shot down, it gets shot down for good."

"And they'll have plenty of time to let the Muggles die off."

Robards swore under his breath. "So you think they deliberately attacked Liliford to rally around this vote, get it out of the way immediately and make us all look like fools in the process."

"It's circumstantial at best, I'm aware," I said. "But think about it: our watchmen outside of Liliford didn't see the Dementors coming, and didn't report when the attack went down. They would've been neutralised, and the only people that know where they'd be..."

Robards shook his head disgustedly. "Would be anybody with enough gold to buy the information from someone in the Ministry."

"So why ward Granford?" Ogden asked.

"Just in case," I replied. "It's possible that they gathered a bunch of Dementors and Portkeyed them directly into Liliford. If we set up anti-portkey and anti-apparation charms around Granford, and if we add alarms to the entire area, we'd know immediately if somebody tried to portkey or apparate inside the ward boundary. Catch them in the act..."

Both men nodded, understanding my logic. It was always nice to have the higher authorities on my side for once, and with both of them being pro-disclosure, we were all working towards the same goal.

Their only weaknesses lied in their positions. Robards, as a Minister, had not been a revolutionary. It had been because of Kingsley Shacklebolt's quick thinking that the supply drop system began, and Robards's best move had been to continue it. Unfortunately, it had felt like that was his _only_ good move, and his passive nature hadn't benefited us so far. He wouldn't outright dismantle the Wizengamot because it meant risking his own political hide, and since we needed someone on our side as a Minister, I couldn't push him any further.

Ogden, on the other hand, held a critical position as Chief Warlock. The Chief Warlock didn't have a vote towards the bill, but it was by his authority that people held their seats, and that votes could be called. He was the peacekeeper, and had to be neutral in every instance, allowing both sides to present their arguments. never favouring one over another. And while he would follow my lead in some instances, there was still one critical opening the purebloods would exploit, and that was his family.

"I'm worried about them," he said, staring into his empty glass. "We may choose to agree to this coming vote, but the bill's dissenters will make an effort to have me call the vote on their schedule. They would use Liliford, for one, and..."

"Your family, for another," I said quietly.

Ogden nodded morosely. A year ago, we had put his wife, daughter and granddaughter in hiding, just in case, and he hadn't seen them in nearly six months. Him just resigning would cause more damage than anything else, so he would have to stay put, constantly torn.

"They'll be fine," I reassured him. "The wards will hold, and if you hear anything, even the slightest threat, I will go over there personally and make sure they won't be touched."

"I'll help too," Robards pledged, looking more than a little affronted that Ogden appeared to consider my guarantee more solid than the Minister's.

"The next meeting," I said to Ogden. "How long can you delay it?"

"Will you need that time?" he asked.

"Reckon I might just."

He _hmm'_d. "Luckily, we can use the agenda's want for 'tradition' against them. They'd want the official chairs, the titles... A lot of paperwork." He smiled a little at me. "I can push it back a week."

I thanked him, and the Chief Warlock left soon after, to send out notices to all the Wizengamot about the coming vote. Remembering that I too had a lot of work to do and some sleep to catch up on, I began to excuse myself, standing from my chair.

"Potter," Robards said before I could go. I met his flat look with one of my own. "Now more than ever, the Wizengamot will be watched very carefully. Nobody will end up dead on my watch, and if somebody does, the entire legitimacy of the body will be called into question. Your progress, _our_ progress, could be unmade if you do anything rash. Hell, they might've attacked Liliford just to provoke _you_. Either way, if you have any stupid plans..."

He left the implied threat hanging, so I countered with, "I'll be sure to tell you first."

I walked out of the office with a big yawn, making my way out of Hogwarts slowly but surely. Before I left, I stopped by the Owlery to send a message to Bill, telling him to gather the brain trust for a meeting tomorrow morning to discuss things. That done, I had only one more thing to take care of before taking a nap, and when I left Hogwarts I walked down the oft-beaten path to Hogsmeade, heading towards the newer buildings erected after the loss of Diagon Alley and St Mungo's.

The new St Mungo's was smaller than the old, only two floors, with my room on the second. I suppose I could be living in Grimmauld now, zombies banging on outside and all, but I felt the need to be close to Hogsmeade and Hogwarts, and what was left of the Healer population wanted all they could spare on hand in case of an emergency. I stopped taking regular shifts long ago, instead focusing on the Wizengamot and scavenging with Kingsley's team. But the sterile halls of the place were home enough, and as I turned a corner into the hallway outside my room, I found Su Li waiting.

"He's awake," she said without preamble. "He hasn't moved or responded to any of my questions, though."

I was far too tired to say anything but, "Thanks for taking care of it." I smiled at her. "I'm passing out early, so g'night Su."

She returned the sentiment as I entered my room, shutting the door behind me. I flicked the lights and found Ron sitting on the edge of my bed, head in his hands. He didn't look up as I entered, but he must've heard me come in.

"She's... gone, isn't she?" he said softly.

I said nothing, because there was nothing else to say. But even that felt like too much, and the dam broke. Ron started shaking his head in his hands, the full realisation of Megan's death setting in. I knew that moment; I'd lived it, and it hadn't been pleasant. Ron... would be feeling it for a long time, and all I had to offer was, again, nothing at all.

..::..-.-..::..

The next morning, I gathered four from the small pool of people I trusted the most.

Of the four, Bill Weasley, Neville Longbottom and Susan Bones held their own seats, while Terry Boot held the ear of his uncle Antioch, who held a chair. When I first joined the Wizengamot to get this bill passed, I had these four to help me out. We met, as usual, at the Bones Ancestral Manor, locking ourselves in the drawing room with sheets of notes, and some tea and biscuits. News of Liliford and the countdown to the Wizengamot vote had struck simultaneously, and my friends and I had to plan and strategise.

Although he wouldn't be much for input in meetings like these, Ron would usually attend. Last night, however, he went out and drank himself to unconsciousness, and I had Su watching over him in a bed at St Mungo's, just in case.

"Twenty-one chairs, twenty-one votes." I flicked my wand at the air above the tea table, and a stream of red light shot out. With a deft movement, the vertical light burned in the air and hung there, and I created another two lines to run parallel, creating three columns. "Right here and now, we have four votes on our side." The column on the far left was now home to four blue dots. "The bill will pass with a two-thirds majority vote. That means fourteen votes or more. Seventeen more votes, and we need ten of them. "

"Easier said than done," said Bill. "I'll say we have eight votes for our side. The four of us, Terry's uncle, Brown, Patil, and Hart."

Terry nodded in agreement. "No way my uncle will back out. He learnt his lesson from the war."

"He has his reasons, yeah," I said, adding the four dots to the column with the others. "We have to know the people we're trying to convince. Everyone's got a history, every chair's got a history. For example, Bill, your family bartered the Weasley seat away a century ago."

"To the Malfoys of all people," Bill said with a grimace. "That's what started the feud."

"That's what I'm talking about," I said, and I gestured to Terry. "The Boots were painted with a pro-Muggleborn brush after one of their scions fell in love with one. They resented the change, but calmed down by the time Dumbledore came around. But Antioch Boot wanted to restore his family's name, and stayed out of the Voldemort wars entirely. Right so far, Terry?"

Terry ran a hand through his straw-coloured hair, his grin wry. "You don't exactly paint us in the best light, but yes, that's the gist. And we know Uncle Antioch made the right choice before the end."

That late change in stance during the war didn't stop me from having some reservations about Antioch Boot. I knew that I had his vote as long as Terry and I were friends and allies, but still made a mental note to make sure that wouldn't change anytime soon.

"Okay, with Boot out of the way, we've still got three more that Bill listed. Brown..."

"Dylan's a good man," Bill put in, Neville nodding in agreement beside him. "Respects you a lot, Harry."

"And he's the one who got Danesh Patil his seat in the first place, so as long as we have Brown, we have Patil," said Terry. "Those kinds of alliances aren't uncommon, and Brown and Patil won't be broken apart after twenty years, trust me."

"We've got Hart, too," said Susan, whose own family and Hart's often co-operated in matters of law enforcement. "He wants this vote to go through and Selwyn's people behind bars again where they belong." She smiled. "Both sentiments I agree with."

I chuckled. "That covers our side. They're solid." _Hopefully, _I added silently. "Now, finding a list of those against the bill wouldn't be too hard. Today's _Prophet, _for example." I flicked my wand again, and eight dots appeared in the rightmost column, red in colour. "Selwyn, Parkinson, Bulstrode, Gale, Burke, Harper, Malfoy, and Cuffe. They signed the petition to push for the vote."

"We can't be sure about Cuffe," Bill said, itching at his chin.

"He's right," said Susan. "Angus MacMillan signed it as well, but I don't think it's as simple as wanting the bill to fail and the Muggles to die, not with him. Cuffe should go into the swing votes column."

I complied, one red dot shimmering out of existence and six green dots appearing in the middle column. "Cuffe, MacMillan, Smith, Aquilla, Diggory and Zabini." I frowned. "Come to think of it..."

I was interrupted by an owl, tapping its beak on the glass of a nearby window. Susan got up from her chair to let it inside, and I recognised it as being one of the Hogwarts school owls, a tawny with a wax-sealed scroll tied to its talons. Susan untied it and said, "It's a Wizengamot seal."

"Well, what's it say?" asked Terry,

Susan broke the wax and began to read. "Wizengamot session, this afternoon. Not an official one, and no actual debate or discussion over the news of Liliford, but... The brooches. They're handing out the brooches."

"The brooches?" I asked.

"For the vote," replied Bill. "A lot of the members now weren't before the outbreak, and it was Ogden's decree to forget about the traditions for a while, given the circumstances. The official brooches, the uniform, the titles, the chairs... They're bringing them all back."

Ogden had mentioned he could give us a week's delay for the next actual meeting, but this brooch gifting session could yet give me an opportunity. "Everyone will be there," I said. "There'll be time for handshaking, and other pleasantries. So this is what we need to do..."

..::..-.-..::..

The Wizengamot met at two in the afternoon, a session that wouldn't even take ten minutes. Every seat was occupied when Ogden read off our names, and afterwards, had an assistant hand out the brooches.

I toyed with mine in my hands. It was pure silver, a cursive 'W', and felt like it weighed more than it should've.

And that was all there was to it. There were no speeches, no condolences for Liliford, no nothing. Some of the members looked they hadn't slept last night, but I noticed Draco Malfoy looked as fresh-faced as ever, pale hair slicked back on his head and grey eyes never lingering on one member too long. I narrowed my eyes at him across the table, and he returned the gesture with a little smirk. He murmured a comment to Harper, sitting beside him, and it elicited a laugh from the brutish, pig-faced, man. In fact, the entire contingent that wouldn't look out of place at a Death Eater reunion party looked entirely too pleased with the turn of events.

My mind went back to the discussion this morning, about the very people we were working to prevent from destroying this bill.

"Harper's a monster," Neville had said with bluntness in his tone, and it was a sentiment Susan seemed to agree with, because she had been nodding furiously. "There's no denying that. He has his chair because of Malfoy's gold, and that's where his loyalties lie. He won't be subtle, and he won't be nice about anything. He's a brute with a vote, and he has to have a close eye kept on him, making sure he doesn't trip up any plans."

"No use spreading any slanderous rumours on his already-slandered character," said Terry, grinning again.

I shook my head. "We'll have to be careful going down that road. Robards said as much yesterday: if there's too much foul play to look away from, he'll start inquiries, and we could lose all of our progress to Ministry bureaucracy."

"A fate worse than death," Terry said solemnly.

"There's a big difference between spreading a few rumours and outright killing somebody to rob the other side of a vote, Harry," Bill remarked. "Fortunately, we wouldn't have to do much to provoke a reaction that could end in legitimate arrests. If we go out of line, Robards will ruin the entire Wizengamot. But if _they_ go out of line, well..."

"They'd be breaking whatever tenuous agreement they had to avoid Azkaban after Voldemort died," Neville said, smiling a little at the thought. "It's worth knowing what will push whose buttons."

I nodded thoughtfully. Rumour-mongering could yet lead to seeds of discord between a politically-minded group, and if the papers got a good enough story, somebody would be forced to resign. "All right, how about Selwyn? Apart from his Death Eater days, he's clean, and way too smart to leave any traces of blackmail behind. Susan, maybe you can still look into it?"

She affirmed with a _hmm _noise. Susan worked in the DMLE in an administrative position, and had access to the infamous mountain of paperwork that had somehow been recovered intact from the Ministry while the undead were wrecking the place. "I'll check out some of the others too. Probably in the same section anyway..."

Neville chuckled fondly, while I turned to Terry. "Your uncle ever spill about any of them? Any blunders on the Wizengamot?"

Terry considered it, tapping his foot on the carpet. "You mean apart from the Death Eater thing? Well, there's all sorts of stories and rumours. You want to entice some rash stupidity by spreading some? Parkinson was easy to make fun of when his daughter was alive; ugly daughter jokes and all. Bulstrode's always been a bit of a loner, but Harper and Burke are the easy targets. They joke that Burke's a shitty gambler, always on the losing side, you know. The family was in Europe with Grindelwald, then backed You-Know-Who twice and lost... So, that joke might not be entirely untrue."

"I remember hearing about Bulstrode's lineage..." Bill said. "Back in the war, when it was a big deal."

Terry laughed. "Oh yeah, that one. Well, the story goes that centuries ago, the Bulstrode family was started by a magically-feeble Muggleborn whose parents left him a bunch of gold. So he went out and made himself out to be a full-blown pureblood lord, buying his Wizengamot seat and keeping it until today."

"I remember Auntie telling me the Bulstrodes were unassuming at best," Susan chipped in. "But the current chair-holder is more of a Harper than a Selwyn, if you catch my drift."

"Might be worth starting up those rumours about his lineage again," said Bill. "I'll handle that, Harry."

I nodded, and, that discussion over, Bill looked up at the columns again, staring at the green dots in the middle column. "Swing votes, now. Zabini first?"

"The Zabini family has always leaned towards being pro-pureblood," I said. "But, Adelle Zabini is for sale, and always will be. She's always had friends with the goblins, and they for her, so even after she _supposedly_ -" I leaned on the word with great sarcasm. " - killed her seven husbands, she always managed to get their gold... But that bargain's not enough for her."

"I heard the only reason she had her son help You-Know-Who's side was because he brought the most gold to the table," Terry offered.

"I'm sure a little intimidation went into as well, but that was a different time."

"Wouldn't the knowledge that she can be bought so easily make her an unattractive target?" Neville mused aloud. "They could decide to sink their resources elsewhere and just let us buy her vote..."

It was a possibility. For the bill to fail, they didn't have to do much work, while we had to get all six swing votes, at least. They could just sit back and let us ruin our own chances, the bastards. "For Zabini," I said, "I'm not sure, but she might just surprise us and make up her own mind.

Bill looked dubious. "I'll set aside some gold, just in case."

"Yeah. Next on the list?"

"Aquilla?" Terry asked.

"He has a place in The Burrows," said Bill, scratching the gnarled scar on his chin absently. "I could have a talk with him."

"What's he like?" I asked.

"As a person? Nice, friendly, helpful, hard-working. As a vote? I think he knows where we're coming from, generally agrees with most of the bill's pros, but he hasn't declared either way."

"He's only a few years older than us, I think," Neville said. "Home-schooled; I mean, I never saw him at Hogwarts, and if Bill's right about him living a sheltered life, that might mean he had rich parents who dodged the war..."

"Probably best we find out either way," I said, tasking Bill with that nonverbally. "Don't be afraid to drop my name, if need be. I'll wine and dine him if that's what he wants. So, Susan, who's next?"

"There's MacMillan..."

..::..-.-..::..

There is a very opportune window at the end of every Wizengamot meeting. A tradition started years and years ago, and it involved members being able to freely talk to each other in brief moments without being seen as actively plotting. More than one potential alliance in the Wizengamot had been destroyed because of people none-too-subtly walking over to high-valued targets in front of everyone else after a meeting. That kind of thing. The tradition that was born was called the Ritual of Shaking Hands, and it was exactly what it sounded like.

It was amazing how much could be conveyed in a handshake. A quick muttered sentence, a promise for a future meeting, an exchanged note, a look into another man's eyes to get a measure of his mettle... The ritual involved everyone shaking everyone's hands. No long talks with people who didn't want to be seen talking too long with other people. Just a shake of a hands, and what needed to be said was said in that moment.

After we got our brooches, we made the rounds. Zabini was already halfway out of the hallway before I could hold out my hand to her, but I moved on quickly.

Brown and Patil reaffirmed their support, Burke and Harper tried to crush my hand, and Boot made mention of Terry being up to no good with a genial chuckle. Selwyn shook with a smug little smile on his face, Hart and Aquilla were warm in a stranger kind of way. I ignored Malfoy's hand, and he ignored mine.

"Interesting article this morning," I said to Cuffe as we shook. "We must do dinner sometime. Talk about it."

"Must we?" he said, raising an eyebrow, and said nothing else. The moment we broke our handshake, he stalked away as if I had The Stigma.

Right. Okay.

Susan was standing near MacMillan and Smith, and gestured me over to go through the ritual again. "We must do dinner sometime," I said, and this time, they responded positively.

"It would be most... enlightening," said MacMillan, his bear-like grip swallowing mine. Angus was a staunch man with large, weathered hands, hands that could coney a lot in even the tiniest of movements, and he did a lot of his talking with them. "I have always been curious about the inner workings of St Mungo's famous Curse Healing teams. You were on Hunt's, right?"

"Yeah," I replied. "You knew him?"

He _mhm_'d. "Off kilter, to say the least."

"Sounds like Hunt." We shared an easy laugh, I shook hands with Smith, and Susan smiled at me in approval.

"Healer Potter, I do hope you don't hold my signature on the petition against me," MacMillan said. "My stance on the issue is well known, but I do not mean to give victory to former Death Eaters."

But he wanted the bill to fail anyway. The MacMillans had always been pro-Muggleborn, and had suffered for it back in the Voldemort days. The constant losses had taken its toll on Angus MacMillan, and made him into the swing vote he was today, if only for one reason: he didn't want to lose anybody else. He wasn't the only one who lost people in the war or the outbreak, wives or children or siblings or... _anybody_ close to him, but he had turned that loss into wariness, into scepticism and a little bit of fear. His usual speeches were quick to note that while he saw the merit in disclosure, he, well, to quote him from months ago, "I have heard stories, horrible stories, of the destructive capabilities of Muggles, especially in recent days. Some style themselves as outlaws, stealing from and killing the smaller settlements, taking women and..." He had taken a deep breath, I remembered, and moved his hands. An entire elaboration about what those outlaws would do to women were in that hand movement, and it wasn't pretty. "They have a destructive capability inside of them, no less than us I am sure, but introducing magic into their lives would breed more harm than good."

It was just that sort of dilemma, but I hoped to one day finally get through to MacMillan, and, if I got his vote, I got the vote of his closest friend and ally, Jonas Smith.

My next target was Amos Diggory, the last of the swing votes. I'd been on the Wizengamot for months now, but I'd never really interacted with Cedric's father.

The handshake went well, until I realised he wouldn't meet my eyes. Maybe it was some remnant feeling of resentment radiating off of him because I survived the night of the Third Task, and not Cedric. I pushed past it, and said, "I've been wanting to talk to you about... _everything_, for a while now. I know we haven't even tried, but I want to rectify that. Sooner rather than later."

His bearded face broke out in an uneasy smile. "I'd like that. Soon."

"I'll owl you," I promised, and we released our hands.

One more. Everyone had started to filter out by now, Susan, Neville and Bill remaining to pick up our discussion again after I was done. I caught up to the tail-end of Selwyn and Malfoy's contingent, and held out my hand to Grey Gale. He was taller than me, with dark hair and grey eyes, his expression distrustful and distasteful as we shook hands. "Anytime," I murmured, low enough so Malfoy couldn't hear. "You can go the right way in this, Gale. Anytime."

He retched his hand away from mine and swore. "Stay away from me, Potter."

I smiled thinly. "Next time, then."

Gale turned his back on me and walked away, and I saw Malfoy whisper something to him.

Bill walked up to me and crossed his arms. "Gale?" he questioned.

"If we can't buy Zabini's vote, or convince Cuffe to come our way, we might need to convert one of theirs."

"You know something we don't about him?" Neville asked.

"Youngest Wizengamot member, voting for Malfoy's way," I replied. "And it's a long story. Goes back to something Astoria told me once."

Bill mouthed the word, "Astoria?" to Neville.

"Malfoy's wife," said Susan, frowning.

"That brings me to my next point," I said, leaning in a little. "I'm going to go pay a visit to Malfoy in an hour or so. He was the first one to stop showing up to the meetings, remember? He signed that petition for the vote, he's here now, and I have openings with him. I've been meaning to do this for a while now."

Neville looked thoughtful. "It's been years since the war, Harry. But... are you thinking that he'll turn on his friends?"

"There's always the chance. He did it once, and I need to get a feel for a possible repeat."

"And Astoria?" Bill asked.

"We were friends," I said simply. "If Malfoy won't give me anything, she might."

..::..-.-..::..

Malfoy Manor was a lavish estate located in the middle of nowhere. Well, it was somewhere, but Unplottable on any type of map, and protected by a multitude of wards and spells that made it somewhere not worth seeking out deliberately. These wards were nasty, to say the least, the type that would incapacitate rather than kill, and leave the intruders in a state for the lord of the manor to deal with when they came home... if they decided to notice their captive in the first place. It's safe to say a lot of Muggle contractors that scouted the area had mysteriously disappeared. Because of that, the land was untouched, all rolling hills and copses of ancient and lush trees for kilometres in all directions. The manor itself was an ostentatious affair enclosed in strong, wrought-iron gates and a stone wall to rival Hogwarts's, the inside of the enclosure decorated with well-kept and colourful gardens, dotted with marble fountains down the winding trail from the gates to the manor proper.

I apparated to the outer gates, and was asked by the gates themselves to state my business. I held out my wand in a surrendering gesture, and intoned, "Healer Harry Potter, recently assigned as Draco Malfoy's personal Healer, bringing potions for the lord's good health."

The house-elf monitoring the charm must've been satisfied with that answer, because the gates swung inward and allowed me access. I started up on the trail, my memories of this place going back to the disaster during the war, with mine, Ron's and Hermione's capture by Snatchers, and that day a week after Voldemort's death, with me on the team that arrested Lucius Malfoy. Narcissa's eleventh hour betrayal had won her and Draco's freedom, but Lucius's crimes had been too big to be ignored, and Kingsley had come down on him hard. By that point, Lucius had been defeated and dishevelled, Ron marching him down this very trail with a grin on his face like Christmas has come early. I'd been here a few times since, but not since the outbreak a year ago.

There were no more peacocks, I noticed. Great big albino things, as over-the-top as they came. But there were none pecking at the lawn as I got closer to the manor...

A groan echoed in the air, and the chinkling of chains followed.

I turned to my right and saw it. My stomach flopped. A man, wearing a tattered and bloodstained suit, was chained to the fountain. He had average hair and an average build, and was averagely undead. My wand was in my hands before I realised, and the zombie fell to the ground, blood spurting into the fountain, staining the opulent marble crimson and leaking over into the water itself.

Then I noticed: while my wand was in my hand, it was pointed to the ground, and I hadn't shot off a single spell.

"He spent an hour going around and around," said Draco Malfoy, coming up beside me. His hair glinted in the sunlight, and he was wearing casual brown robes, his wand held in his gloved hand tightly. The wand wasn't pointed at me, but his posture was alert, ready. "I just watch them sometimes. Amazing how they look just like us, isn't it? And yet, no smarter than a Flobberworm."

I looked around the gardens of Malfoy Manor, _really _looked. There was another zombie shuffling in circles around a fountain down a ways, a teenage boy. A naked young woman was hanging by her neck off an old tree by the perimeter wall. Two headless corpses were sprawled out on the rosebushes. I cast my incredulous gaze back to Malfoy, who met it coolly.

"They're not alive," he pointed out, as if I didn't already know. "The law prohibits specifically baiting or hunting Muggles, not undead Muggles." He smirked. "I thought you'd be by to visit."

"You... _fucker_," I spat acidly.

He shrugged, unconcerned. "Father used to hunt quails, but I found that dull. I'm not the only one who does it, just so you know. If it will help you sleep easier, know that I didn't start this, and believe me, your bill wouldn't end this. People don't change so easily, Potter. It takes a big event like The Dementor's Stigma to make that apparent." He rested his wand arm against his other forearm, lining up a shot on the woman hanging off the tree twenty metres away. "Bigots will be bigots, bad people will be bad people. They just find different ways to show it. Muggle hunting? They're all armed to the teeth now, with their guns, and go around in packs. Hunting the undead?" His spell erupted his wand's tip in a bright glare, and a disk of green light spat out, soaring through the air, wobbling through the breeze a little, but hitting its target true. The bottom half of the zombie's body fell to the base of the tree, but the head, neck and upper torso remained hanging, and the zombie only moaned in response. "Hmm," said Malfoy.

He tossed off another spell to obliterate the remains still hanging off the tree, turned away, and started up the trail to the manor. I followed. He didn't bother with the other zombie chained to the fountain, and I realised with a sinking feeling in my gut that he would be back for it later. He'd go from a meeting with me and back to his little game without batting an eye.

After I'd killed the zombie, Malfoy spoke. "Why are you here?"

"Why else?" I shot back. "It's been a long time coming, but officially, I'm here for two reasons. One, in my official capacity as your family's personal Healer."

"Because the last one died."

"And I took it upon myself to volunteer. Signed the paperwork this morning."

"I think they'd just be happy to have you actually working again."

I ignored that. "My official capacity has me here to deliver some potions that will have a positive effect on your health, so please, be sure to drink them." I pulled two small vials from my robe pockets and passed them to him - one contained a bright green liquid, the other a brown sludge.

Malfoy eyed them dubiously. "What do these potions do?"

"First one's for your hair," I told him happily. "I heard that your father started to recede in his final days in Azkaban, so took it upon myself to brew a simple Hair Strengthening Solution. Take it now and save yourself later."

"Much obliged," he drawled. "And the other?"

"Virility potion."

"And why?"

"You were an only child. I have to consider that something was wrong with one or both of your parents, and it might have passed on. I'm thoroughly concerned."

He chuckled, an odd sound I'd never heard from him. It was a hollow-sounding chuckle, an inside joke to himself and no one else. Maybe he was mocking me. Maybe not. I didn't care. By this point, we were at the manor's large double doors, and one of Malfoy's house elves appeared, bowed low, and clicked two of his fingers. The great doors glided open, swinging along the ground inwards and opening the mouth of the mansion for me to see.

"Would you or your Healer like some refreshments, my lord?" the elf asked, voice deeper than any other house elf I'd heard.

"He won't be here for long," Malfoy said with a pointed look to me as we walked in. "And we shall be retiring to my study to talk, Trippy. Go."

The creature nodded its little head and vanished with another click of his fingers, and left me and Malfoy alone in the foyer of Malfoy Manor. It was a cavernous room, portraits staring down at us from the walls, a ornate crimson carpet with silver trimmings spread out over the stone floor, and two staircases spiralling up to a balcony hanging directly overhead of the heavy wooden door leading into the main hall. Four grey-stone pillars as tall as me were tucked in their own corners, supporting marble heads of long-faced men with stiff, aristocratic features, all turned a certain way to make it seem as if they were watching those who enter their descendant's home.

"You said before that you were here for two reasons," said Malfoy.

The doors closed behind me, but I tried not to feel too trapped. I could almost hear Hermione's echoing screams from my first visit years ago.

"Well my second official role goes back to the agreement we made before your father was arrested," I said. "You and your mother would keep yourselves out of trouble, and somebody in an official capacity would come and check on you. I'm officially here to make sure you're not breaking any laws." I made a show of looking around the entryway. "Looks clear."

"You're an official capacity, now? You were an emergency Auror for what, three months?"

"My official capacity comes from my contribution to the scavenging team lead by Kingsley Shacklebolt." I smiled thinly. "Didn't you say we'd be retiring to your study? Let's go."

He snorted and led me to the right side of the room, past the staircase and into a small set of steps leading down, curving around into a depression in the floor set around a dark wooden door. Malfoy tapped the silver door handle with his wand and whispered a word, before turning it manually and pushing forward, opening up into his study.

The first thing I noticed was that there was a chain hanging off a little hook in the roof, the links wrapped around another zombie's neck. He was a squat Asian man, wearing a plain T-shirt with a bloodstained nametag pinned to his chest, the only letter visible the first "L". The chain was too short for him, because he was hanging slightly off the ground, choked and kept upright, neck kept rigid and straight. He wasn't moaning, just wheezing in his chokehold, feet kicking at the ground in a very human struggling gesture.

_He's dead_, I had to remind myself.

The rest of the study wasn't important. I gazed flatly at Malfoy. "I think I'll say what needs to be said right here."

Malfoy smirked, and leaned against the open door, giving me a clear view of his captive inside. "By all means, talk."

"The Wizengamot meetings," I started, "Today was the first one you've showed up to in weeks."

"Some of the members are _dreadfully_ boring when they want to be," he said, as if confessing a great crime.

"But your side angles for the vote, even draft up a petition for the papers... And look what happens at the same time."

He raised a pale eyebrow, and said nothing.

"This is about Liliford, Malfoy. I think somebody had something to do with its destruction, and I think it's the people you hang around with that caused it."

"Of course you do."

"They were protected in that valley. It wasn't perfect, but they were surviving."

"I imagine it would be worse now, what with the Dementors and all."

"The thing is, I know this long game you and your friends are playing is so you can get rid of the bill. I'm here to talk to _you_ about it."

He considered me. "Are you here to accuse me?"

"I have no intention of that," I said sharply. "Unless you believe I should be."

"Potter, we are not in session, so let's not mince words," he said. "In there, it's all about image: I'm young and impetuous, snide and mocking. You're the Boy-Who-Lived in over his head, meddling in a game that's too much for you, but you don't realise it yet. Funny thing is that you're the same outside the Wizengamot. That collective of stuffy old conservatives has ingrained themselves, and has made a habit of destroying people like you for a long time."

"Amazing how you find words now but won't show up to the meetings to say them. Did Selwyn tell you not to speak? Or Parkinson? Or... Well, it must be fantastic to have such an array of fine allies to make sure you stay quiet. All your father's friends, right? Belonged to this club, didn't they? I'm sure they make you feel valued."

"The obvious retort here would be to say that at least I have my father's friends around while all you have are gravestones, but I digress. This conversation is boring me, Potter." He waved a pale hand at me. "I have a dinner planned..."

I stepped towards him. "You know, I could invoke your life debt. One sworn to me by your mother, and never fully paid for. Any magical life debt would pass on through family lines. She's dead, but the debt remains. If I were to ask you one question, I'd get one answer, and nothing but. You lie and you die by that unbreakable vow. I could invoke it and make you lead me right to whatever plans your agenda has planned. Maybe it's not _yours_, per say, but you still want the disclosure bill shot down, so it's yours enough."

Malfoy's eyes were flinty as they bored into mine. "And you're sure now is the time to use it? To call the debt? What if you asked the wrong question? What if you realised that the answer you'd get wasn't enough? What if, what if... It's early days, Potter. We're sliding into something dangerous. I'm a target, you're a target. Both of us are pawns in a bigger game. Tell me, will you risk invoking the debt now?"

Problem was, he was right. Dammit. The life debt would get me one perfectly honest answer, or his assistance in telling me an important part of the agenda's plans, but there were ways he could get around that. People like Malfoy worked with words, weaving them together, creating lies in truths and honesty in deceit. The problem was, right now, that he was technically my enemy in this matter, and could be part of the group responsible for Liliford's destruction. If he was, he wouldn't just give it up... And again, he was right about it being too early to play that desperate card. There had to be another way to get something, _anything, _from him.

"You want any favours from me, Potter?" Malfoy asked. "I can show you the door."

"Draco?" a soft voice called out. Malfoy stiffened and pushed himself off his spot leaning on the door, sweeping his hands behind his back and affixing a small smile to his face, one that looked genuine, shockingly.

"Astoria," he said courteously, bowing his head to somebody behind me. "I had hoped we wouldn't disturb you."

This time it was my turn to stiffen, and I turned to face Astoria Greengrass.

I met her back at Hogwarts, the two of us working together in the Hospital Wing in my seventh year, taken a year after I was supposed to do my seventh, and her sixth. Pomfrey took a few students every year, having them restock her potion supplies, help the students with minor wounds or simple colds, and just generally showed the basics to prospective students of the Healing trade. While Healer Hunt had offered on-the-job training right out of Hogwarts, I still wanted to go in with a bit of a clue, and had turned to Pomfrey for the lessons. Astoria later told me, after the awkward first few weeks where we didn't really talk, that she'd always wanted to be a Healer, and it showed in her diligence for the task. We were good friends by the end; working together like that created odd little bonds.

She hadn't changed all that much since I'd last seen her. She had long honey-blonde hair, hanging down to her shoulders carelessly, and it framed a heart-shaped face with a slightly prominent chin. She wasn't all that tall, more on the shorter side, but held her height well and had a good figure to match, with curves that were well-propotioned for her frame, and very easy on the eye to look at. The gown she wore was emerald green and silky, embroidered by sparkling gems at the hem and sleeves. It'd been a year, and she looked older for it, very finally pushed past that transitional teenager to adult stage at twenty years old.

Astoria was looking back between me and her husband, a puzzled frown on her face, and she addressed me first. "Harry? What are you doing here?"

"He was just leaving," said Malfoy, looking between us. A light must have clicked in his head, because he added, "Oh I forgot. You two were friends."

Neither of us said anything, though I don't know why. It wasn't exactly guilt, but it was something similar.

"Show him out," he said, taking a step back and turning. His back was towards us as he walked into the study, heading towards his captive zombie with his wand in hand. Before he could do anything, or even make an attempt to shut the door, he felt the need to take a parting shot. "And Potter? I'd rather not have anymore personal visits, especially worthless ones. Don't waste your time."

Clinking chains heralded movement coming from the centre of the room, and the zombie snapped its head down and dove for Malfoy's neck. The chain strained against its weight, but its gnashing teeth gnawed through the air and towards pale skin -

Astoria shrieked, and I acted. A jet of flame belched from my wand in a concentrated wave, lashing forth and cutting through the air. It washed over the zombie's head, flickering flames lighting its shirt collar on fire, burning the hair of its scalp and melting its flesh around the still-gnawing mouth. An acrid smell filled my nostrils, and I realised Malfoy's hair had been singed in the flames. Disgusted, I spat out a Piercing Curse and ended the partially immolated zombie's unlife, and the flames died down soon after, when there was nothing left of its neck to hold the chain up, and the entire body slumped to the ground.

We were very, _very_, still for a moment. Malfoy's unflappable posture was loose, his hair burnt at the tip and his eyes wide. If that zombie had been a touch faster, or Malfoy just a touch more distracted...

"Next time," I said, "I might not be here when that happens."

"Astoria," Malfoy croaked. "Show him out."

A burst of purple light flashed out of his wand, and the door pushed itself shut, slamming on the hinges and sending Astoria into a little jump of fright behind me.

"Fuck," I murmured to myself. The smell of burning flesh was stinging my nostrils, and my eyes. I shouldn't have used fire, but I just _reacted_. I'd found Liliford only twenty-four hours ago, had barely slept since then and with the Wizengamot and Malfoy...

"Harry?" Astoria probed, hovering at my side, blue eyes shining with concern. "Are you okay?"

And then there was Astoria. I hadn't seen her in a year, not since Sarah was alive and as far as I knew, The Dementor's Stigma was just another disease that didn't bring people back to life. It was hard to reconcile what I was now, Wizengamot schemer, to what I was then, just Harry the Healer. I don't know why I used fire.

But I smiled at her anyway. "I'm fine. Sorry you had to see that."

She nodded, avoiding my gaze and staring off into the distance. She'd seen it all before.

"Can we talk?" I asked her. "I didn't just come here to catch up with your husband."

She peered at me. "Is it business from St Mungo's?"

"No."

"Oh... We can talk in the library."

The Malfoy family library was situated directly opposite Draco's study, and the door was open when we passed through; Astoria had probably heard mine and Draco's little discussion and come to investigate just before. We walked into a large room, almost the size of the entrance hall, with rows of bookshelves facing us, grand old things made of well-kept and thick brown wood. I strolled forward and looked to the nearest shelf - the books on this one were old and thick, ponderous tomes falling apart at the seams but hiding a wealth of knowledge I'd never understand. It must've taken centuries of collecting, buying and outright stealing to collect so many books.

"I'm never bored," Astoria said to me, grinning a little at my reaction. "Come on, I have a table through here."

She led me down one row, across to another, around the corner of a third that had a bookshelf curving into the wall. By the middle I was feeling a lot like a rat in a maze, searching for the cheese - which in this case was a sturdy table about the size of a king's size bed boxed in by four shelves. A half dozen texts were sprawled out on the table under the watchful flickering flames of a large lamp, and one of the chairs had purple cushions lining it. It was cozy and warm, a comfortable little spot in the middle of the maze. I could see why she picked it out - a place of solitude, a place to be calm while she read. She was at home in silence like this. I remembered Pomfrey telling her that she wouldn't always have quiet conditions to work in when it came to being a Healer, and it was something she worked on, but the fact remained that she thrived in the quiet, concentrating solely on the problem and solving it in the blanket of silence.

She sat down in the cushioned chair, sinking and settling in, relaxed for the first time today. I took a seat next to hers and glanced at the books on the table.

"Wilfred Rackharrow's Guide To Bruise Salves," I read aloud, and looked at another, this one already open - she'd been reading it when she heard me and Malfoy arguing. "Reinhart's Compendium of Basic Healing, second edition... Interesting." I looked away and toward her. "You're still studying?"

She smiled sheepishly, a dimple showing on her cheek. "There's always something to learn, and this library has plenty to offer. Draco devours the books here too, but usually in his study. I sometimes imagine getting lost in here. It's not that bad, actually."

"But you haven't had any practical experience lately, I take it."

She raised an eyebrow. "No, I haven't."

That made me frown internally. She had always wanted to work at St Mungo's, and with the short supply of Healers these days...

"Are you all right?" I asked without preamble. "Seriously, are you..." Safe? Happy? Glad to be Malfoy's wife? "... Here?"

"Daddy wouldn't have married me off to a monster, Harry," Astoria said. "I know what you're concerned about, but trust me, it's been good. Really. Draco's a flawed man, but a good one."

I grimaced. She hadn't exactly chosen Draco as a husband. When the outbreak hit, her father had wanted all the capital he could in the new world, and did it in the most traditional way possible: marriage alliance. Fancy words for selling off his surviving daughter, but he did it anyway. Though he later died from a case of dragon pox, his daughter was soon after married to Malfoy, as safe as she could be.

"He's confident, and determined," she was saying now, "Strong, but a lot less impetuous than he was when he was younger. Actually, he reminds me of you. Quite a bit." She smiled a wicked smile. "Though I'd never tell him that, of course."

"Or me, never tell me." I said, though I found myself grinning back at her.

"Of course, you haven't checked up on me in a year and only come now when you need to wheedle my husband into something to do with the Wizengamot."

Well that killed my grin. "Astoria, if I honestly thought you couldn't handle yourself, I would've come running."

"I know, Harry," she said faintly.

"But now that I've seen the place, I'm a little concerned," I said honestly. "Not about Malfoy, not really. I'm not a fan of his, but he's not a complete monster." Stubborn and radically opposite me in a political sense, and maybe working with the people who destroyed Liliford, but not a monster. "But I haven't seen you. At all. Not at any of the Wizengamot gatherings, you there to support your husband. Not at any of the big shindigs they throw in Hogsmeade every month because hey, they're still alive. Not out on the street or in the market or... St Mungo's would be glad to have you. They'd be on their knees begging for another Healer right now, and if you've studied up, you're practically there. But... Have you left the house at all, Astoria?"

She shook her head. "It's all about safety, Harry. There's people out there that would use me against Draco, people who have vendettas against him. Political enemies, those who fought on the other side during the war... He's a target, and so am I."

"I'm on the 'other side' as you put it, and I'm not targeting him."

"Not yet."

I tried a different tack. "Are you safe here? There are zombies inside your house. There's zombies in your garden. Your _husband_ hunts them for sport. There is _nothing _safe about that."

She said nothing. I sighed, and silence set in.

"Oh," she said after a minute, her features disheartened. "I heard about Sarah, Harry, months and months ago, but..."

My heart froze at the very name.

"... and I'm so sorry. I mean, I only met her a couple of times, but she was kind, and, and, you two were a beautiful couple. You looked so happy next to her, and... I'm sorry."

I swallowed thickly; it felt as if my throat had turned to sandpaper as I did. I remembered the meeting she talked about: Astoria was in her first year of classes, I was in my second year on Hunt's team, and had been dating Sarah for about eight months. I remember something about... Wait. No. I used that memory against a Dementor a few months ago. I... It's gone now. It's blood and ashes, in my mind and in my mouth, and still lingering in my nose from earlier. _Fire_.

Astoria avoided my eyes, her hand absently playing with the cover of Reinhart's Compendium. "I can't help you, Harry."

"You don't even know what I'm going to ask."

"I don't involve myself in Draco's affairs," she said flatly. "I hear things and I know things, but I'm not involved, for my safety and his. He makes sure I'm as safe as I can be, by keeping me out of it."

"You know things? Like what?"

"Harry, I can't."

"Astoria please, if I can save some lives with this information -"

"Harry," she implored. "_I can't._"

I suddenly understood; her pained expression told me enough. It wasn't guilt on her face, it was a binding. "How long?" I asked.

"Since we wed. A standard unbreakable vow... I cannot reveal my husband's secrets."

Shit. These sorts of things were airtight, too. The nature of the spell, the binding, was prickly and deadly, and couldn't be overridden by writing things down or using any other method of communication to directly convey the thing the vow was supposed to withhold. _What if you asked the wrong question? _Malfoy had asked me, and I thought about it. She couldn't betray her husband's secrets, but... what about her own? What if, just maybe, Draco was under a similar binding, but to those like Selwyn and Parkinson, and that's why he wasn't telling me anything? He had been dismissive before, maybe for his own safety. He had wanted me to come, however, and had even expected it...

If he was trying to convey something, the best way to do that would be to use his wife, even if she didn't know it.

"Astoria," I said quietly, and she looked up. "Yesterday, I saw a town swallowed in mist. It was buried in it, a shroud of pearly white, the consumed souls of those caught up in the Dementor attack. You've never seen the town, but I have. It was big and bustling, with people, like you and me, working hard with what they had to just survive, holding on with all they had. To _life_. The world is devastated by billions of walking dead, and they live. Lived. They're all dead now, and I think your husband knows something. While I don't doubt he's a good, if flawed, man like you said, the fact is that he isn't forthcoming with anything, and won't be as long as he's involved with the other former Death Eaters. But you might know something. _I_ know that the Astoria I befriended wouldn't want anyone to die because of her, let alone a thousand people in Granford, or the entire wizarding race as a whole. So please. I trust you." _Don't betray that_, I added silently. _Please_.

Her eyes searched mine, and she looked vulnerable, very afraid, and _young_. She could say she was fine with her living conditions, that at twenty years old, instead of working at Mungo's like she dreamed, she was locked up in a house with books, house elves and zombies for company, as well as being married to a secretive man who had to lock her down for his own self preservation, and that knowledge had to take a toll on her. I saw her face run through the conflict, the doubt and the uncertainty. Then she adopted a look like she was working out a problem, working out how to dodge the magical binding she was under.

I helped her along. "Are you worried about anything?" I asked carefully. "What are _you_ concerned about?" Not her husband's concerns, not anything that he could mention if he was bound, but her own personal concern, her own secret that had nothing to do with Draco's.

"... Granford," she murmured. "The town of Granford."

The last bastion of surviving Muggles in the United Kingdom. She was implying enough: Liliford is gone, and Granford is next.

I grabbed her hand and squeezed. She looked shocked, but squeezed back, visible weariness showing on her face. There was nothing left to say but goodbye, and I left the way I came soon after, leaving behind Astoria and Malfoy Manor and every fucked up thing I saw in there.

..::..-.-..::..

As soon as I could, I gathered my friends in Susan's drawing room again and explained what I intended to do.

"Astoria Greengrass confirmed it," I said confidently. "Granford's the next target, and I have to go there personally."

Susan was the first to voice concerns. "Harry, while I think it's a solid plan, I'm worried about your source. Astoria Malfoy -"

"Could be playing me, could be faking, could be nothing like the girl I once knew," I finished. "I considered that, trust me, but I... I just _know_ she's not lying about this. I even checked if she was under a magical vow of sorts with a more exotic spell Hunt taught me a few years back, and it came up positive. I don't trust many people, but I trust her." Even if it kills me.

"It'd be a dangerous move to play," said Bill, his fingers tapping his chin, considering it. "A lot of it would rely on whether or not Malfoy would honestly be willing to risk telling us via her, or not. Things could escalate."

"Things _have_ escalated. Liliford is gone. This is my next move."

Bill nodded. "I thought as much. But we still have a problem -"

Susan perked up in her chair suddenly, eyes alert. "Somebody's at the door."

We all waited for a tense moment as Susan closed her eyes and tried to feel the family home's wards. Neville and Bill stood from their chairs carefully and eyed the doorway. Terry dropped the biscuit he was chewing on. I don't know why I drew my wand, but I did anyway. I heard the old creaky doors to Bones Manor open, a muttered word, and heavy, hard, footsteps, headed towards the drawing room. One footstep, two footsteps... and a tall figure appeared in the doorway.

He was unshaven, wearing the same robes he had been yesterday, looked pale, smelt like a distillery, and was swaying unsteadily on his feet. But he was there, and he looked at us all apologetically. "Sorry 'm late," he said.

"Ron," Bill breathed, bounding forward and enveloping his brother in a hug.

I only smiled at him. "Good to have you, mate."

Ron shrugged himself out of Bill's hug. His expression was flat and his eyes were cloudy; he was probably still a little hungover. "Is everything going well with the Wizengamot?"

"Making strides," Terry said vaguely.

Ron swallowed thickly and looked at me directly. "I know I'm rubbish at this politics stuff, but I know that... I know that _somebody's _responsible for this. For Liliford. For... everything. Wherever you need me, Harry, I'll be there."

"We're going to Granford then. Paid a visit to Astoria today."

"And how's she?"

"Good, considering. Still studying Healing where she can."

A flicker of amusement passed over his face, and it was a welcome sight. "That's good. So why Granford?"

"Because she told me, and I think the message actually came from Draco, that the purebloods have their sights set there next. Maybe they'll outright destroy it, or maybe they'll have other plans. Either way, we're going in. I want to see the situation for myself, I want to prevent Granford from suffering the same fate as Liliford, and I want to find a solution, a key, to defeat those aiming to shoot down the bill. They'll slip up, and we'll catch them in Granford. Somebody inside, something behind those walls... There's the lives of over a thousand Muggles on the line. The only problem is... Time." The others, except Bill, looked to me, and I continued, "Ogden can push the meeting until a week from now, but the purebloods won't roll over. As soon as they get the chance, they will go after Ogden's family and get what they need from him. They want that vote called. They're emphatic about it. Next time, they'll be emphatic with threats."

"I know how we can get you the time you'll need," Bill said quietly. "We haven't told anybody yet, but... Fleur is pregnant again."

Shock, and something warm and foreign in these dark times, shot through me like lightning, and I stood up to clasp my hand on his shoulder. Susan and Neville both hugged him with one arm each, and Terry let out a little cheer. Even Ron looked happy for him. "Why didn't you tell us?" he asked.

Bill shrugged, but the joy was evident on his face. "We were going to wait a bit before spreading it around, but..." He shrugged again. "I'm telling you this now because it's a good reason. An excuse. I'm running The Burrows, and I'm about to have a third child... It's possible, say, that I want to resign my position on the Wizengamot."

The room went quiet as that sunk in. Bill cast his gaze to mine, and said, "Are you a hundred percent sure that Malfoy's wife isn't lying?"

I nodded.

"And will the answers be found in Granford? Can you make up for my loss from the Wizengamot by taking those bastards down, and make sure you have the swing votes on your side?"

I nodded again.

"Then I'll resign tomorrow morning, and push the Wizengamot into an evenstall."

Terry laughed. "That's brilliant."

"What's an evenstall?" Ron asked, frowning.

"An old term for when the Wizengamot has an even number of members for a vote," I explained. "There's always been, at maximum, forty-nine members in the Wizengamot, right from the start. Not fifty. This was done to prevent pure tie votes. It's rare, but it was thought that a true tie vote would indicate a fracturing in wizarding society that could never be healed. An old superstition, but a valid law now. Selwyn and Malfoy want their old traditions brought back before the vote, and this will use it against them. If there's an even number of people on the Wizengamot, there's no voting until somebody else makes the number odd again. With Bill stepping down, we have twenty people. Evenstall."

"Harry, you better get into Granford as soon as possible," said Bill. "You'll have the time to do what needs to be done."

"They will recover," Neville warned. "Some way, and with another vote in their camp, bought or threatened, but they will reply."

"Let them try," I said vehemently. "We're going to stop them. We're going into Granford, and we're going to save the townspeople. Whoever wants to come along can, and we'll be back for the final vote. Agreed?"

And with a room with full of nods, we were setting out to save Granford.

..::..-.-..::..

_To Be Continued in Chapter Three: Infiltration..._

..::..-.-..::..

Post-Chapter Notes:

_- Next Chapter Tease ::_ Harry and friends take a trip to London to meet with the Muggles from Granford, and the key players are given proper introduction. And zombies are killed in the process. As it should be.

-_ Wizengamot Scorecard ::_ As promised, and this card will be updated and changed as the story changes. Just for everyone to keep track. As of the end of this chapter:

- _Pro-Disclosure_ :: Harry, Neville, Susan, Antioch Boot, Brown, Patil, Hart.

- _Anti-Disclosure_ :: Malfoy, Parkinson, Bulstrode, Selwyn, Gale, Harper, Burke.

- _Swing Votes_ :: MacMillan, Smith, Diggory, Zabini, Aquilla, Cuffe.

- _Former Members ::_ Bill Weasley (Resigned).

- _Member Count ::_ Twenty.

- _Status ::_ Evenstalled.

Thanks for reading!

..::..-.-..::..


	3. Chapter Three: Infiltration

_Standard Disclaimer_ :: All things Harry Potter belong to JK Rowling and affiliates. This fanfiction is a non-profit venture written for the enjoyment of myself and my readers.

_Dedication :: _To Seratin, Lutris, Zeitgeist, Vira and the others on DLP, for putting up with my insanity, for reading early drafts, and just being there. Also, to all those who reviewed/favourited/alerted me or my story here on , cheers.

_Preface ::_ I just wanted to get it out there that I chose Dementors as big scary evil monster thingies precisely because they can't be conventionally killed. This isn't the kind of story with Golden Patronus bullshit or anything like that.

_Previously :: _Liliford, one of the two Muggle settlements, has been destroyed by the Dementors and converted into a breeding ground, and Harry immediately suspects the Dementors were unleashed by the pureblood agenda as part of their plan to destroy the disclosure bill in the Wizengamot. A meeting is set a week from then, but Harry and his friends discussed their political allies and enemies, and those they need to convert. Every member was discussed and dissected, and plans were enacted. Harry paid a visit to Draco Malfoy in an attempt to use his various leverages - including a life debt carried over from Narcissa - to his advantage, but was rebuffed and decided to leave things be... only to learn what he needed to learn from Malfoy's wife Astoria, an old friend of Harry's who, despite a magical binding, was able to assist. Harry and his friends plan to use her information to infiltrate the town of Granford and save it from the inside out...

..::..-.-..::..

_Chapter Three of Sixteen: Infiltration_

..::..-.-..::..

"I don't know what to make of this," the Minister said, sitting behind his desk and peering up at me through his reading spectacles. In front of him was a copy of the letter of resignation of Bill Weasley from the Wizengamot, and beside that was my official notice of the undertaking of a self-proposed and self-exected infiltration mission into the Muggle settlement of Granford. Robards had read through the former with one eyebrow raised, and the latter had sent both to his hairline.

"You did tell me to inform you before I did anything stupid," I reminded him, checking my watch. The others were in place and I had to get there soon; the Muggles were coming.

Robards snorted. "So I did. Thinking about it, your logic is sound. You're concerned about the other side targeting the town like they targeted Liliford, and you're taking matters into your own hands. And no, I don't particularly want to know why you decided to do so, nor do I care for anything illegal you have planned..." He took off his glasses and narrowed his flinty eyes. "Unless you give me good reason to."

We'd been over this in shorter sentences three days ago. Robards was a proponent of the disclosure bill we were trying to push through the Wizengamot, but his influence over that body was tenuous at best. Individual members he could control, to a point, and would allow for me and my friends to meddle just a little bit, but if there was something he couldn't reconcile with, with the law or the public, he'd end us before it could be traced back to him. The Wizengamot could yet turn around and oust him if that line is crossed, and he was afraid of that.

Robards had been passive enough for the past year, and I wasn't eager to test him in this regard. I was quick to assure him of that. "This is a precaution more than anything else," I said. "Ogden's given us the coming Wednesday for the next Wizengamot meeting. I'm not optimistic I can find something in Granford in just under a week, but... I'll be in a position to try."

"This time you're getting," began Robards, glancing down at the resignation of Bill Weasley, "might yet give the other side the advantage."

"That's just a risk we have to take."

He nodded. "So you're just going in?"

"Just like the Ministry operatives did," I replied. "No need for disguises. A simple story will get us through the gates - we'll look like any other group of survivors, desperate for a new start and the protection Granford offers. You'll have to tell your people that we're coming, so there's no fuss. We're not going to shakedown your spies and informants about the day-to-day stuff. We're going in to get a feel for a place, check out every corner we can, for, well, anything."

"I'll get Stark to send the word out. You should know that just yesterday I had a few of our best put those wards up, like you asked. If you go in, you'll be trapped."

"We'll be fine," I assured him. "Look, I have to head off, so..."

"Go," Robards said. "Don't screw it up."

Sterling advice, and it echoed in my ears as the six of us crouched low in the convenience store, waiting for the Muggles from Granford to arrive. The store was small, less of a store and more of a stall, barricaded by security shutters and a collection of cars parked in a semicircle around the street. The area had already been used as a hideout from the undead, and that's why we picked it. It obviously hadn't gone well for the survivors before us, given that when we got here there was nothing but blood and abandoned supplies. We took the supplies to add to our own, doing what a normal group of survivors in this world would do: collect, scavenge, become what they carried.

"It's going to be dark soon," Neville murmured, shivering. A cold wind had picked up, the groans and moans from the walking dead carrying as it blew, and light was dimming in the sky.

We'd been waiting for hours, and it was beginning to show. It didn't say much for our survival skills that, only away from our warm homes for this amount of time, and we were disheartened and miserable, flinching at every slight noise. A certain part of my brain knew that my wand holster was attached to my wrist, invisible to the naked eye, and at the first sign of danger we could all apparate away and regroup for a later, different, infiltration tactic into Granford. But knowing that didn't stop me from worrying about the others, and hoping the Muggles would come soon.

It wasn't hard to set up. The Ministry operatives had detailed reports on how Aaron Fortess, Granford's leader, went about saving people outside his town's walls. They had Muggles inside constantly monitoring radio transmissions, and anything and everything was heard by their state-of-the-art equipment. So all I did was find a way to get them to hear, and relayed a message of distress. Basically, I told them my name, mine and my friends's desperate situation, our location, and our earnest hope for some kind of rescue. The man on the other side of the line relayed several messages back and forth with me almost immediately, telling us to sit tight and they were coming to save us. They had a town, he said, a safe haven as impenetrable as it could get, and it held a thousand people.

That so much hope could be relayed in the fact there was a _thousand_ people left was heartbreaking. I thought about how easily wizards dealt with the change compared to the Muggles. We had our own insular communities, but these last thousand Muggles were made up of people from all over the country, a ragtag group of people far from home and trying to survive.

I'd do everything within my power to keep them safe.

"Getting cold," Terry said, teeth chattering. "Yes yes, I know that's obvious, but I had to say it."

"Calm down," I told him, reaching out with a gloved hand and grasping his shoulder. "Ron, do you see anything?"

Ron, peering out of the security shutters, shook his head. "Same as before. The cars are stopping the curious walkers, and our spell's holding. They can't smell us."

From his spot next to a silent, eyes closed and relaxed, Su Li, Ernie MacMillan's ears perked up. "I think I heard something," he said.

We waited. The wind had stopped blowing, but faint moans could be heard in the distance, a cacophony of calls into the dark city, no quieter than a bustling metropolis of people living their lives and living them loudly. The dead were a lot like the living in that aspect, at least.

There was a soft sound, a softer grunt, the sound of somebody bumping up against one of the cars, and a rough male voice murmuring, "Shit!"

"Three of them," said Ron, shifting his head back and grabbing his cricket bat. "One woman, two men. Coming our way." He turned to face me. "They have guns."

"Be cautious, but not hex-happy," I warned them all. "Be natural. When somebody points a gun at you suspiciously, you act scared."

"Act, he says!" Terry exclaimed.

"I think I heard voices," the rough voice from earlier said, louder than before, closer than before.

"I did too," a calmer male voice agreed.

I moved forward and held both of my hands up, allowing myself to be seen. "Hey!" I hissed. "Over here."

I spotted three dark shapes crouching behind one of the cars, their heads turning my way at an instant. Two of them pointed their rifles my way, while the third was more cautious. "Harry?" the calmer voice, the one not pointing his gun at me, asked. "Harry Potter?"

"Yeah!" I whispered. "All six of us are here. Are you Stanthorpe?"

Stanthorpe nodded. "We're coming in a sec, so get your things ready, but be quiet," he said. "And put the guns down, guys," he added to his friends.

I shared a look with Ron, and he nodded, picked up his heavy canvas bag and swung it over his shoulder, but he kept the cricket bat in his right hand, just in case. The others gathered their meagre possessions too, but stayed as far back as they possibly could at my urging, waiting for Ron and I to give the all clear. Neville nodded in affirmative, Ernie strapped his bag closer to his chest, and Su roused herself from her fake nap. Meanwhile, Terry started nibbling on a chocolate bar nervously, the wrapper crinkling in his hand every other second.

"Are they close?" I whispered. "The walkers?"

The rough male voice replied, "'Bout a dozen coming down the street now, but if we're all fuckin' _quiet_, we should be fine."

"Warren," Stanthorpe chastised. "Don't worry about them right now Harry. Just worry about... Jules, how are we going to get the shutters to open quietly?"

"We're not," a woman's voice murmured, her accent Irish and fair, but holding an underlying tension to it. "Do it slowly, but it'll still make noise. I need you -" Her face suddenly appeared in front of mine through the shutters. She had a cute little button nose and brown hair tied back in an efficient ponytail, but her mouth was scowling at me. "Yes, you, I need you to do some lifting on your side. Now."

I gestured to Ron, who took ahold of the shutters on his side with his left hand and started to lift. I did the same with both of my hands, moving steadily, and Jules and Stanthorpe did the same, the four of us working in tandem. It wasn't a heavy lift, but it made a piercing _crrssh_ing sound as we moved it, and going slowly was the only way to keep it down. When it was high enough, Stanthorpe and Jules stepped back, and I turned to the others. "Let's go," I said, and we all shuffled out and onto the street, crouching behind the barricade of cars.

"Harry, good to meet you in person," Stanthorpe said, crushing my hand in his enthusiastically. He was an older man with a weather-beaten face and had tough, calloused, hands. His salt and pepper hair was professionally short and his clothes were dark, but he was grinning at me. "Shorter than I thought you'd be."

"What can I say? I'm larger than life," I replied with a grin of my own. "Stanthorpe, the others. The others, Stanthorpe." I pointed to each of my friends in turn. "Ron, Neville, Su, Ernie and Terry."

"Stanthorpe?" Neville questioned, as if his own name wasn't any stranger.

"Stanley Thorpe, but Stanthorpe's stuck," said Stanthorpe. "Nice to meet you."

Hushed greetings were murmured back and forth, until the other man, Warren, snapped at us, "Keep it down. There's a walker coming."

The others froze. I moved towards one of the cars, a boxy little blue thing, parked on the right side of the semicircle perimeter. Through the windows I could see a ragged creature dragging its feet towards us.

"We have to go that way," Jules explained, coming up beside me and fingering the trigger on her gun. She wouldn't use it, though, I knew that much. Gunshots were loud, and if she didn't want attention on us, she wouldn't basically ring the dinner bell for all the zombies to converge on. "But if he sees us, his moan will alert the others around the corner. We'll have to be quick, and -"

"It's not like we haven't dealt with them before," I murmured back. "Ron."

There was a certain component to a successful infiltration that was all about image. If I had more time I would've starved everyone in our group for a few days to get them looking properly survivalist, and we certainly would've spent some nights in the cold to get a feel for it and not look so out of place. My limited timetable, however, prevented that, so there had to be other ways to sell our savvy in dealing with these things. I knew that Ernie and Terry hadn't directly fought with them, it had been a while since Neville and Su had, and Ron and my skills in zombie dispatching only came from quick wandwork. Without magic to sell the image, I instead gave Ron the cricket bat.

So, at my command, he stalked around and out of the barricade, crouched low and approached the walker, bat in hand. Then, with one great swing at its legs, he took the thing down to the ground, a sickening _crunch _sound reaching my ears as it did. Before it could even moan, he lifted the bat up again and brought it down on the zombie's skull, once, twice, three times. I had a fleeting thought that he hadn't really released his rage since Megan's death, and hoped that the zombie didn't take it personally, brains pulverised on the asphalt and all.

Once he was done, Ron stalked back over and ducked down. "Done," he said simply. "Where are we going from here?"

Stanthorpe pointed, and I frowned. "The Underground?"

"That's how we got here - the tunnels," said Jules. "We can head right out to where Fortess and the others are waiting."

"They didn't want to come here?" asked Ernie.

"We have thirty people scavenging the outskirts, and even that feels like too many to risk," she replied. "You want us to send that party into heart of undead-infested London? I'm sure they would've loved to come, draw attention to themselves and become a walking buffet, but they had a tea party planned and couldn't make it. So sorry."

Terry's teeth flashed in the dark. "I like you," he said, and held out his hand to her. "Hi, I'm Terry, and you are?"

"Juliet," she said, completely unamused. "Put that hand away before I _take it_ away from you." The rifle sitting in her hands seemed to illustrate that point nicely. I know I would've been properly cowed.

"Let's get goin'," Warren spat. He had a harsh, pockmarked, face, with dark hair receding at his temple. "No use waiting here for more of those fuckers to show up."

We darted out of the barricade quickly and quietly. Warren and Juliet led us towards the Tube Station, Stanthorpe taking up the rear as we zigzagging here and there, sticking to the shadows and keeping very low. I was jogging beside Ron the whole way, bloody cricket bat and all. About halfway down the street, I discretely pointed my holstered wand at him to clean the blood on his face, but he didn't say anything.

The Underground was dark, dank and uninviting, the only light coming from the torches the Muggles carried - torches being essential supplies I seemed to have forgotten that we should be carrying - and the only sounds coming from our echoing footsteps, and, after a while, heavy breathing. The air was tight and compressed down here, pushing into our lungs with dust and mildew, there being a collective interest of both in these long-abandoned and never-maintained tunnels. Along the way we found a few dead zombies, their heads bludgeoned in by what I assumed to be the butt of either Warren's or Juliet's rifles.

"How'd they get down here?" Neville asked, panting alongside Stanthorpe and me in the middle of the pack.

The older man shrugged. "Walked, I'd reckon. But honestly, who's to know. It's been a year, and they're always looking for food. Maybe one day they smelled it out down here, and have been lost ever since. They could stay down here for years, just waiting for their next smell to lead them out. Problem is that they don't realise they're trapped. They'll always be following the lingering trail of their last fresh scent. Forever."

"Don't think they'll die out naturally?" I asked curiously, though I already knew that they wouldn't. If they hadn't starved to a second death within in a year, it was unlikely that they ever would. Rot and natural conditions took their tolls, of course, but these were creatures with magical origins, and wouldn't just stop existing so easily.

"We can only hope that they will, Harry."

Neville nodded suddenly, understanding. He pointed from me to Stanthorpe. "He was the one you talked to on the radio."

"Yeah, I drew the shift yesterday," Stanthorpe said as I nodded. "Lucky thing too, because I know at least two of the others just turn off the radio and go to sleep." He paused, smiling slightly. "That was a joke."

As far as he knew.

We continued on. Once or twice Ernie voiced concerns about us being lost down here, but I didn't share them. Either Juliet was a natural at appearing to know what she was doing, or maybe she did genuinely know the way, but either way it assuaged my concerns and in turn made me assuage Ernie's. There was a certain amount of trust we had to place in these strangers, a wary trust, but trust nonetheless. After all, I told myself, if we couldn't trust three world-weary zombie-fighting Muggles to show us the way through the tunnels, how could we trust them after the disclosure bill passes?

"Remember what you said when you agreed," I told Ernie quietly. "Practical experience."

He grimaced as I parroted his words back to him. Ernie MacMillan had graduated Hogwarts and jumped straight into the Ministry, a natural talent at Goblin Relations who enjoyed a good bit of economic calculations and playing with bankbooks and ledgers. The outbreak had robbed the world of the goblins - tragic, I know - but their gold had been recovered and several wizards had gotten together to create our own self-sufficient economy, another move of Robards's to ensure a feeling of normalcy in these abnormal times. Ernie worked in that department for a few months, before volunteering to work with the Muggle ambassadors group, a fledging little team tasked with scenarios to ensure the disclosure event would go over well after we voted it in. It was actually a bit of a subtle jab at the pureblood agenda by Robards to have the group even formed in the first place, even though the chances of the bill passing were closer to down than up as the days changed.

Anyway, the day after Bill's shocking retirement from the Wizengamot, I took advantage of the distraction to accost Ernie at Hogwarts.

"I don't know why you'd need me," he had said, the two of us talking in his group's offices, an empty classroom converted to a boardroom with several desks pushed to corners. Everyone else in the group was out to lunch at the moment, but the doors were locked and the anti-eavesdropping spells in place, just in case.

"Because you agree with the disclosure, even though your father doesn't," I had replied earnestly. "Because you're here, right now, working toward a better future."

He looked uncertain. "Harry, I don't know..."

"Ernie, please, I remember you were there when we needed you, back in the war. You're hardworking, can handle yourself in a fight, and, well, you agree with our stance. You understand that I don't want anybody to die, and you should know that that's why we're going into Granford. To prevent deaths. To get the disclosure bill passed. To, well, make it all mean something." I swept my hand around the office. "All this."

He had taken a moment to think it over, every bit his father's son in the way his hands did most of the talking for him, going from conflicted to curious to eager to concerned all in one twitch.

"You'll be safe, I guarantee it," I had said. "If that's what you're worried about..."

"I'm not worried about that," he said pompously. "I'm just wondering if they'll pay me overtime for this practical experience I'll be getting mingling with the Muggles."

I only grinned in reply, and that was that.

..::..-.-..::..

True to my prediction, Juliet was leading us true, and after taking a minute break, she told us, "It's close." She was panting too, finally; guess she was human like the rest of us. "Fortess should be packing up to go now. He'll send the supplies ahead first, and wait for us for another hour."

"So what's he like?" I asked curiously.

Juliet's face clouded over. "Aaron Fortess is... a great man. He's holding Granford together, and that hasn't been easy. A thousand hungry, scared, people, and they need a good leader, and Fortess is it." Her default scowl shifted to something resembling a little smile. "I knew him before all of this, back when he was just Aaron, not Fortess, the Grand Granford."

"You'll like him Harry," said Stanthorpe. "You all seem level-headed enough, and if there's one thing Fortess admires the most, it's that. Jules here is the most level-headed girl you'll find, so he of course made her his second-in-command. He trusts her the most."

Juliet's smile shifted away, fought off her face like a stray bug. "We should keep going."

"Sorry Terry," Neville murmured to him as we headed off down the tunnels. "Your dream girl's in love."

"Like _that_ would ever stop me," Terry said.

Terry had an odd fondness for things in ways that most people would find unnerving. He was always a bit of a strange one, though he was quiet and studious back at Hogwarts, excepting those incidents about him compulsively re-appropriating sugar quills from his roommates that we heard even in Gryffindor. He made it through the Battle of Hogwarts intact, and went on to, put simply, laze around for a few years afterwards. His future occupation was on the Wizengamot after his uncle retired, he always said, but before that, he wanted time to indulge his own little pursuits.

"As long as you're sure," I had told him after he was the third to volunteer for the trip into Granford. "Terry, I'm not going to be tactful about this: you've never really dealt with Muggles before, and well, I'm a little worried you'll just end up getting yourself killed. Or something."

"Harry, I'm going to be interacting with them on a daily basis once the disclosure passes," he'd replied. "I have to get to know them sooner rather than later. And 'sides, we're friends, and friends help each other out in infiltration plots."

I peered at him. "You have a little obsession over them, don't you?"

"I have _always_ wanted to fire one of their riff-als."

It was no shock that Terry was now staring at Juliet so openly, especially given she was carrying a "riff-al" over her shoulder and the strap was pushing against the sides of her modest breasts contained in a sheer tank top. In fact, Terry was so distracted he almost missed getting eaten by a zombie.

Ernie cried out, "Terry!" and he threw himself to the ground, narrowly avoiding the flailing arms coming from one of the side tunnels.

Ron turned and clasped his cricket bat with both hands, and Stanthorpe's torch illuminated the zombie that had appeared. It looked remarkably intact, kept down here in the darkness and not rotting in the sun, with pale skin almost glowing in the darkness. The zombie was of a man, nothing but ragged strips of brown cloth hanging off of its shoulders. Its left arm looked like it had been chewed down to the bone, I noticed, but there wasn't much else to notice - Ron's first strike knocked it down to the ground, but it was Warren who finished it off.

We watched, myself slightly disturbed, as Warren bashed its brains into the ground with the butt of his rifle, crushing all the way through the skull until the rifle was hitting at the ground again. Only then, did he stop.

And, for the first time, I saw Warren smile, just slightly and more than a little disturbingly.

"Thanks, man," Terry murmured to Ernie. "I owe you one."

"You're welcome," Ernie shot back.

We left the zombie corpse, a pulp of brains and skull congealing in a pool near the stump of its neck, and continued onwards. Nobody talked, but everyone seemed a bit more jumpy and cautious for the undead pouring out of the side tunnels; none did, thankfully.

"We're here," Juliet said after ten minutes, pointing off down a tunnel that looked just like the others. "There's another station through there, and Fortess is waiting. Come on." She took off in a jog, and we all followed, not concerned about staying quiet anymore. Bags and weapons jangled as footsteps smacked on the ground and heavy breaths erupted from our mouths.

The station was just as dark - the power to the entire city had gone out a long time ago - and torches illuminated the dull white painting on the walls and the overturned rubbish bins. Oh, and there were corpses, both skeletons and recent additions, of course. But that was standard for an area like that, and I tried to ignore the stench that they carried. Beside me, Ron, my silent shadow, did the same.

Juliet and Warren led us up the stairs, and at the top we arrived directly into the business ends of two sharp torchlights, and some guns, one shotgun and two pistols.

"They're not zombies," one of the Muggles reported, snorting to himself. "Just Juliet and her strays."

"Sterling observation," Stanthorpe said, shepherding us forward. "Come on guys. Let's go meet Fortess."

The three Muggles lead our three Muggles and the rest of us down another abandoned street, this one noteworthy due to a streetlight sprawled across the road and collapsed on top of a car that reminded me of one of Uncle Vernon's four-wheel drives. Off to the side, somebody had piled up two dozen zombie corpses against the side of an abandoned clothing store. When we walked by, another Muggle wearing a handkerchief over his face was pouring petrol from red plastic can, liberally sprinkling it on each body.

"All went well, then?" Stanthorpe asked one of the Muggles, the shotgun-toting man.

"Got what we could," he replied. "Not as exciting as your adventure, no doubt."

The dark-haired woman of the newer trio looked at us curiously. "They have no weapons on them?" she asked Warren.

Ron lifted up his bloodstained cricket bat and smiled blandly.

"Right. What in the hell were you doing in the middle of London then?"

"Trust us, we didn't _want_ to be there," I replied.

"Glad you made it out of there intact," the third, a man closer to my age than the others, said to us all. "Did you see any mist?"

_Mist_. Crawling mist, rolling and stinging my eyes, trapping and closing in on all sides -

"No, thankfully," I said while Ron frowned beside me.

"Christ, I heard the entire Thames is crawling with mistfiends now." The Muggle shuddered, and the long brown coat he wore shuddered with him. "Glad we didn't have to go out past around here."

They led us to three large trucks parked in the middle of the road, one a sixteen-wheeled monstrosity, another a smaller Jeep and the third something almost military in appearance, coloured a dark green. It was beside the green truck that a dozen men and women were converging, receiving instructions and scrambling off to enact them, going from truck to truck, carrying boxes of food and weapons and cans of petrol. The man they converged on was tall and stiff-backed, with sharp blond hair illuminated by the truck's headlights, and a fleeting growth of stubble covering a strong jaw and aged-lined face. He exuded confidence, not like a politician's confidence, all oozing liquid calm, but like a well-trained soldier. His voice was strong and his commands stronger; a natural leader. He was Aaron Fortess.

I'd heard the reports, of course. Liliford's leader had been of a similar mould, because in a time of need, people rallied around strong people who acted decisively and swiftly, but still fairly. Liliford's leader, Blake, had been a hard edge, Fortess was a fair edge, and Robards, our own leader, was a strong edge turned passive, who by all means should've been better but barely budged now. I didn't know who'd I would prefer to be led by, but right now I had to get in good with Fortess; I might just need his cooperation in this matter yet, and as far as laying the groundwork towards a successful disclosure went, me helping him save his town would be pretty damn good.

"Sir!" Juliet called, bounding forward. "All good?"

"No losses on our count," Fortess replied, and I was instantly impressed, casting my mind back to all the dead zombies we'd seen outside the Underground station. Even with thirty people to manage against all of them, Fortess had kept them all alive.

"Aaron," Stanthorpe said warmly, clapping the other man on the shoulder. He waved a hand our way, gesturing to me in particular. "This is Harry Potter and his friends, the kids we had to go rescue." He pointed to each of them in turn and listed off their names. I ignored that and instead focused on Fortess, who was focusing the same on me.

It was nice to have somebody look at me and not have their eyes instantly go towards where my faded lightning-bolt scar sat, I'll say that much. Fortess's gaze was assessing, cautious and reserved. I met it evenly and tried to interject a bit of levity into my expression.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," I said, holding out my hand to shake.

"Likewise," he said courteously, shaking it. His eyes escaped mine and darted over my shoulder, and he grimaced. "Excuse me for a moment, please." He turned to his second-in-command. "Juliet, can you tell Leeson that I wanted him on the road five minutes ago? We have a schedule to keep."

"Right away," she said, stalking off to yell at a man lingering around the Jeep truck, the younger man from earlier with the brown coat. "Leeson, get your bloody arse moving!"

Terry watched her go admiringly.

"Apologies for that. I thought we were on schedule..." Fortess shook his head. "Please, Stanthorpe, get them settled in the big truck. You seem to have survived the trip through the tunnels intact, so you'll need the rest. Mr Potter, can we have a moment to talk?"

Stanthorpe ushered my friends away, and even Ron went after a moment. Fortess watched them go, and I saw his eyes assess their basic appearances: Ron, ginger-haired, tall and sullen. Neville, sandy-haired and cautious. Ernie, swaggering under the weight of his bag. Terry, with his glasses and straw hair, grinning at every little thing he saw. Su, small and bored-looking, unnoticed by all those that passed her.

"Interesting group," Fortess commented, leading us closer to a private spot near the green truck. As we did, the Jeep started and drove off after Juliet's heckling, and the woman herself hovered nearby, watching me and Fortess. "You're all the same age, right?"

I nodded. "Friends, some from when we were kids, some from university. There were a few more of us at the start." When it became apparent he wasn't going to reply, I continued with, "Stanthorpe probably told you, but we were camping out in the highlands when it hit. You know, getting pissed and complaining about classes. Then one of our friends, Vivian, comes down with this nasty fever... I mean, we thought she was still drunk when she started to see things that weren't there soon after, but..." I swallowed heavily. "By the time we started heading back to civilisation, less than a day after she got sick, she was dead. Then she wasn't. She bit some of us, they came back, and..."

Fortess held up a hand, his face softer than it had been. "No, it's all right. I don't mean to make you relive that, I just need to know certain things. I'm very proud of what I've accomplished with Granford, Harry Potter. Everyone works hard, and they all have a role to play. There's a lot of jobs being invented with the times, and a lot more being brought back that wouldn't have looked out of place back in the Middle Ages. We have power, yes, but in the days we can't rely on the generators, we need to rely on us. I need to know what you'll all bring to the table."

I could understand that. Prepare for the worst, know the strengths and limitations of those around you. It was a creed Hunt, my old mentor, followed, though he worded it as, "If your most reliable Healer makes a habit of picking his nose in the middle of an important procedure, you better be damn sure you have another standing by who won't get your patient killed because he wants to pick his damn nose."

"I'm a med student," I said with preamble. "I got a lot of on-the-job training here and there, and I know my stuff." In truth, dealing with curse injuries meant we had to occasionally had to do some Muggle-style work, and I knew enough of that to get by as a passable Muggle student doctor. "Neville works with plants and agriculture, and he knows his stuff. But, if you have no need for that, he's a hard worker and isn't afraid to get his hands dirty. Terry is... A history student. If you have need of someone to work with books, he's your man. Apart from that, he has an unhealthy fascination with learning to fire a gun, so he'll probably try to work in the field. Ron's a heavy lifter - plays cricket, you know. Ernie's an accounting student, and he knows numbers and stuff like that. Su's a med student too, but she was a child prodigy, and scary good at what she does."

"She seemed quiet," Fortess pointed out. "Did something... _happen_ along the way?"

There was a certain inflection in the way he said that, and I shook my head emphatically. "She's chatty when she wants to be," I replied.

She had been when she confronted me in St Mungo's just yesterday.

"I want to come with your group to Granford," she had said to me without preamble, ambushing me outside our rooms. At my incredulous look, she elaborated, "Terry told me. After I prodded him."

"Why would you want to come?" I asked curiously. She was reliable in a tight spot, and proved that when she survived the initial outbreak, the lockdown that had destroyed St Mungo's and Healer Hunt's team, all but the two of us. But still, I hadn't seen this coming.

"Better there than here," she said. "Harry, I know why you stopped Healing. It wasn't just because of the Wizengamot or the scavenging teams."

"Yeah?"

"It was because they make us work on a cure. A cure for The Dementor's Stigma, for the undead. But... It's worthless. I've known it for a long time, but there's a difference between actively doing something and convincing myself I'm doing _anything_. I need to get out of here."

I blinked at her. I honestly hadn't expected it, not from her. But, hey, if she wanted to come along...

"I get the feeling you know the stakes here," I said seriously. "Su, you can't afford to draw attention to yourself. This is a dangerous game, and you're someone they can and will take care of without consequence."

"Then I'll be quiet," she said frankly. "But I still want to help. You're taking me."

Apparently I was now taking her along. She was hardy like that, and I couldn't really refuse her logic. Su had held on as long as she could, but it was apparent she'd given up on working for a cure to the undead strain, like me and like so many other of the surviving Healers. We were always looking for that elusive cure, but I didn't think it could be found, and apparently, neither could Su. She was a direct and useful little woman, and taking her along felt right.

"Su's solid," I assured Fortess now. "We all are."

"You'll forgive me, but I _need_ to know if that's true," he replied. "I took a big risk sending three of my best people to go rescue you. We've been ambushed before in situations like this one, and while you turned to be genuine, there's still a chance that your presence in Granford, in my town, will not be a positive one. I need guarantees. That you can keep your friends in line."

"My friends won't be a problem. They've stuck with me through everything that's happened this past year."

"I don't mistrust that, but they might act differently in a more civilised, safer, place. They might feel entitled to something, and something bad could come of that. People change in events like this one, Harry Potter, and our true faces are shown, the good and the bad."

I took a moment to think, contemplating how to play this. Fortess was a man of integrity, and wouldn't put up with any bullshit. Though my very invasion into his town - for good reasons of course - was a lie, there was still a truth of two I could tell him in the lie.

"I told you before I'm a med student," I said quietly. "In training to be a doctor, a healer, a saver of lives. I didn't always want to be one, but I suppose I should've considered it once or twice. I was a fighter when I was a kid, and lost a lot of people because of that. A dear friend of mine once told me that I have a thing for saving people, and she was right. That's what this is all about. When you lose enough people, your natural reaction is to never want to lose any more, so that's what I try to do. I have to be strong for everyone in the group, even though..." Something heavy sat around my neck, carrying the weight of a question never asked. It hung on a chain, and I pulled it out to show Fortess. He had a sharp intake of breath as he saw the golden ring. "I lost Sarah, my fiancee. I became a healer to save people, not lose them. But I still lost Sarah. And now, I've got to try, just _try_."

Fortess nodded slowly, understandingly. "Hop in the truck with your friends, Harry. Granford will be happy to have you."

"I won't you let you down."

"See that you don't. Because one mistake, one slip-up, and we'll exile you. Not just you, but all your group. I don't make an exception to that rule. Not ever." His mouth stretched into an honest smile. "We've got some stops to make on the way, but we'll be in Granford by dawn."

Halfway there already. I had a good feeling about this.

..::..-.-..::..

We were stuffed in a storage container the sixteen-wheeler truck boasted, alongside boxes of supplies and a half dozen other people, including the easygoing Stanthorpe and the testy Warren. The ride was bumpy, and long, and we stopped a few times at more towns for scavenging purposes. They didn't actually want us leaving the truck until they had verified our usefulness, but we worked together with the others to stack more supplies into the truck, manoeuvring boxes around in a way that only Ron and I had experience with. It wasn't hard work, and I wanted to be out to actually help every time we stopped, but Fortess was running a tight ship with all known qualities on board; we weren't known yet, so we weren't used. Whatever he was doing worked like a charm; nobody died tonight.

As we rode, I was sitting next to Su most of the time, and I made sure to ask, "Keeping quiet?"

"As I can," she replied with a little smile, legs curled up underneath her and her back pressed against the side of the rumbling truck.

Across from me, Neville shot me a tired look, and I returned it. It had been a draining kind of day, and now a draining night, and I'd had too much time to think about things. About plans and plots, concerns and surprises. Neville had been thinking too, I knew, for he had said as much to me an hour before we locked ourselves in the convenience store Ron found close to Grimmauld Place.

"I can't help but notice," he'd said, having said his goodbyes and made sure Susan would watch some of his plants at Longbottom Manor, "that our group is filled with political targets."

"Coincidence," I had replied.

"Oh yeah? Two Wizengamot chair holders, and three relations of three others - a son, a little brother and a nephew. And Su. Regardless, one would have to think that taking Terry and Ernie into this is a message to their relatives. You were always a bit dubious of Terry's uncle's support, and Angus MacMillan's one of our swing votes..."

"The thought occurred. Terry's uncle will have learn that I'm definitely worth trusting somehow, and maybe MacMillan will see the Muggles aren't as destructive as he makes them out to be if he sees his son live beside them without being harmed. As for Ron? Bill's not a member anymore, remember? Evenstall." I smiled at the thought. Brilliant, and insane, move, the evenstall. We'd forced a stoppage of any progress, if only for a temporary time. And by sacrificing one of our number, a move nobody on the other side would've seen coming, we might've just made enough of a distraction to throw them off balance while we checked out Granford.

"And Su Li?"

"You know she's capable," I said, but nothing further.

"Yeah..." was all he said, but didn't go into it. I knew why, he knew why, Su knew why. We were all survivors of the St Mungo's lockdown, and we never talked about it. For good reason.

I steered the conversation back. "Why not have her along? I couldn't stop her if I tried..." I frowned. "Neville, _you're_ not having second thoughts, are you?"

"Harry... I'd be lying if I said otherwise." He smiled sheepishly. "Sorry, but as far as plans go, it relies on a lot of uncertainty..."

"I'm not exactly planning that hard, Nev," I said. "Just reacting."

"I have a scar on my chest from the last time you 'reacted', Harry."

I grimaced. As far as memories go, I would give all my happy ones just to get rid of that one, the blood and the ashes and the _reaction_. Put me up against a Dementor with no happy memories to protect me, and _that one_ would replay in my mind, every damn time. My mother's screams had nothing on Sarah's.

After that moment had passed, and I fought to stop the screams, I spoke. "I won't force you into anything that you don't want to."

Neville crossed his arms. "It's still the right thing to do, despite it all."

"I was hoping you'd see it that way."

"Though... I'd much prefer being with my plants," he said with a little smile. "They don't plot or scheme."

I smiled back. "We'll find you plants to take care of in Granford. Promise."

..::..-.-..::..

I awoke to a hand shaking my shoulder. Strange, I didn't remember sleeping, but I _was _tired... I pushed my glasses up to my nose and peered up at Stanthorpe, whose cheery grin was faltering as tiredness took over.

"We're here," he said. "Come on."

He moved on to shake Su awake, but, true to form, she wasn't actually asleep, shooting him an unnerving little look before stretching to her feet. Ron and Ernie were already jumping out of the truck's end when I got up, grabbed my bag, double-checked that my wand and Sarah's never-owned ring was in place, and stepped out onto dew-soaked grass underneath a pink-tinted sky. Dawn had risen, the darkness and the uncertainty of the night washed away by that little bit of sunlight over a distant hill, a new day and a new beginning.

We were standing outside in a fenced enclosure containing not just our truck, but another three like it, and a group of others of all shapes and sizes. It appeared to be a fortified petrol station, the one just down the road to the town north of here, the road splitting to the east as well; the eastern road lead to the old bus station our scavenging teams dropped supplies off to, while to the west and the south were less road and more river and mountains.

"The two bridges into town can't take all the trucks," one of the men told a curious Terry. "We keep some here, some in town. We'll spend most of today transferring and sorting out all the food."

"Fortess has gone ahead with Jules and Warren," Stanthorpe said to me. "Come on, I'll take you over the Tent Bridge. It's a bit of a walk, but compared to the tunnels last night, it's nothing, and at least there's fresh air. So come on."

And off we went, the six of us, Stanthorpe and a few others, walking on a deserted country road. The scenery was nice, with green grass and tall trees on all sides, the occasional roadsign pointing our way to Granford. Stanthorpe happily explained Granford's natural protections as we walked

"Granford's bordered on three sides by The Trickler, our own personal river-cum-moat. The Trickler goes down for a bit and gets pretty high in rainier seasons, but the two bridges never flood, and at best we only get a bit of water on the eastern side of town. But yeah, why two bridges? The Old Bridge had been getting on in years, but while she's still holding up, we were having a newer bridge built before everything went to hell. Finished it now, though. The Old Bridge can't hold the weight of all our trucks, and the Tent Bridge, that's the newer one, is a little occupied at the moment."

"Why do they call it the Tent Bridge?" Ernie asked.

"You'll see. Anyway, we have a filtering station - The Trickler gets pumped into it and filtered constantly, especially after we fish up a stray walker in the river... Not that that ever happened, of course. All right, moving on, our generators aren't on all the time to conserve gas, but we usually put them on every night for a bit just to light up the town and make people feel safe, you know? A lot of homes have personal generators, but Aaron makes sure nobody hogs anything they don't need. The only exception to that rule is the fence, which is always on just in case."

We came up to a corner where the trees started to thin out, and I could see what looked like crop farms in the distance, multiple people tending to them while more stood sentry, checking for approaching zombies over the hills and far away. There weren't any, but it couldn't hurt to be careful. We continued around the corner, and the road suddenly split off in two, heading towards two bridges, and beyond that, the town of Granford.

At first glance, it was a little rural town situated a slanted hill. I'd seen it from a distance before, and knew the basic set-up: The Trickler bordered all sides but the west, where Granford's hill was at its peak. The hill protected that side of the town, and the river took care of the rest, with a second border made up of thick walls and the electric fence also erected. The only way into the town was by the two bridges from the south, which were currently facing towards us. The road we were walking split off at the end into a fork - the older, well-travelled bit of road led to the Old Bridge, a concrete monstrosity with rusted supports, completely empty of anything. The other side of the road was newer and untouched by time, leading to what was in fact an appropriately named bridge, the Tent Bridge.

Green camouflage tents were erected all over the bridge, tied off into the railings to the side. There were large tents and small tents, and some in the middle, but they all appeared to made of basic cloth, and all were spaced out so there was enough room for a line of people to walk straight through the middle. There were about twenty people working on the bridge, some as sentries staring out into the rushing river below, some carrying supplies down the middle lane to other tents. It looked like a little command centre or a military post, and given that the bridges were the only way into the town, it was no wonder it was as well-guarded as it was.

"They live here twenty-four seven," said Stanthorpe, gesturing to the men and women darting from tent to tent. "They usually repel incoming zombies, most wandering from the city just north of here. Anyway, their main duty is to, in case of emergency, light the Two Flares."

He pointed at the top of two large tents sitting in the middle of the bridge. A long metal pole pierced through the roof of each, standing upright in the breeze, although the tents themselves were swaying. At the top of each metal pole was a bundling of wood, and a small rope travelled from the top of the flare and into the tent - fuses to be lit.

"What do they do?" Neville asked curiously.

"Hearing about the borders - our fence, the river - might make you think the town would be an easy target if a zombie was already inside, biting and turning more from the inside out, but the flares prevent that. Zombies don't have much in the way of intelligence, but they go to where they smell, see or hear their food. An instinct. If there were zombies inside or even outside, we attract them to these bridges - our chokepoint - by lighting the flares. The kindling up there is waterproof, windproof, all kinds of proof. We even stick a bit of meat in there to carry the smell with the light. When the flares are lit, we turn off the rest of the power in town, and everyone hunkers down in our fallout shelters and wait for the Tent Bridge to take care of it. The zombies come running to the flares, and if there's a lot of them, we've rigged the bridges to blow with some explosives we found in an old military base west of here. Zombies come to the light, zombies explode."

Terry was frowning. "Wouldn't we be trapped then? Aren't these bridges the only way in?"

Stanthorpe chuckled. "There's more than one way out, kid, trust me. Zombies aren't smart enough to check the filtering station on the north side of town - we unlock the right pipes and we can get out into the river and head into the mountains if the town's completely overrun."

"I'd love to hear more about it," I said, because I honestly wanted to. More ways out meant more ways in, and I needed to know all of them, even the ones basic Ministry reports didn't cover.

After getting a round of cursory nods from a couple of the bridge sentries, we began our trek across, walking in the middle lane, stepping around larger tents and bustling sentries as we did. Stanthorpe led the way, levity overcoming tiredness as he explained, "It's not exactly as foolproof as Liliford's set up, but we make do. Haven't got any secret mines to escape out of."

"Liliford?" I asked because I had to, sidestepping a gun-toting Muggle as I did.

"Another town like this one, bit smaller, and down in some valley halfway across the country. We send people back and forth, and some food if we can spare it, 'cause it gets harsh down there, and they need it. Just folk trying to survive, like us."

I shared a look with Ron. They didn't know. They hadn't heard. It had taken us a few days to learn, but they hadn't heard at all... Liliford had been destroyed, and Granford had no idea they were next.

"Though," Stanthorpe said with an uneasy frown, and it was just bad luck that he went on with, "I wouldn't want to test our set-up against the mistfiends."

"That's the second time you mentioned them," said Ernie, maybe oblivious to what he meant, maybe not. "What are they?"

Stanthorpe face went grave, scared. Even the _thought_ of a Dementor was enough to send shivers down the spine of a man who'd seen it all, and Stanthorpe looked like one of those and then some. It must've been worse for the Muggles; they had no comprehension of the Dementors, what they'd do to them if they went for the Kiss. Worse, they had no idea they could be repelled. Fear of the unbeatable unknown. It was no wonder Liliford had been swallowed alive by their mist, with those odds.

"You ever see mist?" Stanthorpe said, voice hushed. "Not your regular kind of mist, but this bright white mist that's as clear and as cold in daylight as in night. I walked in it once, and it was colder than I'd ever felt, but in a perverse way, violating my skin and..." He shivered. "The mist itself is bad enough; no sane man would walk in there. But the mistfiends... Invisible things that live in the mist, and maybe out of it. All you feel is the same chill, and then... Without even a whispering sound, or a look at them, they just... destroy you."

We were all quiet for a moment, as the Two Flares towered above us in our steady walk across the long bridge.

After we passed under the shadows of the flares, Stanthorpe continued, "One of the others swore they saw a black cloak in the mist, but that's all we think we know about the fiends. If we see mist, we leave, no exception. We travel home in circles, make sure they don't follow us. It ends a lot of supply runs before they start, but nobody ever talks about it. They never think about what would happen if the mist appeared in town one day, and brought those invisible monsters with it." He shook his head and grinned ruefully. "Look at me, talking to the new kids about invisible monsters."

"We ran into some mist once," I said, and it was technically true. More like three or four times for me, though my first and only trip inside the mist had only been days ago. "It was covering this entire building - some place that looked like a good hiding spot - but we decided not to go in. There was the cold, like you mentioned, and... I dunno, it was just..." Evil. Malevolent. Unbeatable.

"It'll be okay," the older man assured, even though it wasn't.

He had a very valid point about nobody thinking about what would happen if the Dementors all-out attacked. The wizards shared the same view, and even I tried not to think about it much. Dementors weren't to be thought about at all - having that thought felt like my own personal Dementor was hovering over my shoulder, always waiting, taking the good memories and replaying the bad ones. _The Dementors fear our Patronuses_, I told myself every time the thought came up. _They won't risk attacking. We're safe behind our wards and with our wands in hand. Save the Muggles first. Stay on the Wizengamot. Save. Heal. _Because when the Dementors came, there'd be no saving to be done.

We crossed the Tent Bridge in sullen silence, and everyone but me and Ron were soon yawning the early morning away.

"We'll get your new homes sorted out later," said Stanthorpe. "A lot of families basically foster people if they can spare it, especially if they work with them during the day. When we get newcomers, they get given jobs and places to stay, but at first we'll probably just set you up at Abe's."

My ears perked up, but Stanthorpe went on, oblivious.

"Abe's is a nice place, if you don't mind the smell of goats. It's weird though - he doesn't actually seem to _own_ goats. Strange old coot, but always has room to spare in his inn, that Abe."

"Sounds like a charmer."

"He does his job. Anyway, first thing new arrivals get is a medical exam - we can't risk any infected individuals, and not just of your usual pre-zombie warning signs. We had a _nasty_ bout of flu pass through after we picked up this kid in Wales. Nearly took all of our antibiotics, but one of our more successful away teams picked up some somewhere less than two days ago -"

I smiled.

"- oh, and here we are." He stopped, stepped aside, and gestured a hand.

The town unfolded in front of us. The short road from the bridge had been surrounded by some nice, scenic, factory-looking places, over a century old and long-abandoned. Beyond the factories I could spot residential streets, and more appeared as I scanned the right side of town from the slight vantage point where we were. Ahead was a road leading directly into the main street, sitting alongside a main square that less of a square and more of a circle, boxed in by tall, austere, buildings like the town hall, library and a greengrocer's. A maze of residential streets mixed in with small businesses sat off to the right side of the main square, and while official signs pointed out the locations of the hospital, police station and filtering station, makeshift ones pointed towards the town's generators, an armoury and boarding houses. The town was that quaint mix of an idyllic age gone by, with old-fashioned homesteads and main buildings made of old stone, and a modern town, with clean roads, newer outlying constructions, and a traffic light by the primary school. There were also newer additions, like sandbag barricades, munition containers and what I thought might be an oil trap of some kind.

Stanthorpe was looking around the town fondly, with the wistful air of a boy who grew up here and never wanted to leave. "Welcome to Granford," he said. "Your new home."

..::..-.-..::..

We spent the morning being poked and prodded in the name of 'examination', and it was a strange experience. My last trip to a Muggle doctor had been when I was ten, and while a part of my Healing training involved Muggle techniques for surgery purposes, I had completely forgotten the way they did diagnostics. No Standard Diagnostic Charm or a Strahl's Variation, no wave of a wand and a stream of light or smoke or sounds to indicate current health. One of the precious few doctors, a very tired-looking man, checked me over physically, taking blood, listening to my heartbeat... What was standard to him was quaint for me, and the whole time I hoped the others kept their cool about it.

I found them intact and all confined to a small hospital room, where we'd wait to see if we came clean on The Stigma, or as the Muggles had simply dubbed it, "the disease".

We came back clean, of course; I was very sure in vetting my choices for this mission down to people who didn't recreationally stick their hands in zombie's mouths for fun.

"I think they're asleep," I murmured to Ron. We were sitting next to the door while the others were sprawled out around the room, having fallen asleep while waiting for one of Fortess's people to show up with directions to our lodgings. I sighed. "Don't blame them. This place must be strange. It's strange to _me_ and I grew up around Muggles... Been too long."

"Don't worry about us," said Ron. "I know not to go around asking about plugs and batteries, and the others are _much_ smarter than me."

I let out a short laugh, and it felt good. "Thanks, but next time we'll bring someone more Muggle savvy." I nodded my head towards the others. "Four purebloods. Neville was right, and I didn't realise it until we got here. I'm using all of them. Except Su. I think she's using us."

"Doesn't matter," Ron grunted. "They want to help, and they'll help. Just let them."

I held up my hands in surrender. "All right, all right. We're here now, so let's make the best of it. You got your wand?"

He trailed his finger from the top of his wrist around to the underside, tracing the outline of the holster on his arm.

"I'm going to head out and get a feel for the place. They said we could, and if anyone asks, I'm just scoping out my new home at Abe's. I've got a good feeling about that place."

"Say hi to Abe for me," said Ron, settling himself against the wall and keeping his eyes on the others.

I left the room, navigated the hospital's halls and found an exit. The hospital was on the eastern side of town, and the path back to the main square was well-marked and uneventful. It was a nice day out in Granford, and people seemed to be everywhere at once, double-checking barricades in the street and in some of the abandoned buildings. Men, women and even some children moved about with steady efficiency, this the kind of thing they'd do every day since they got their assignments. People were working hard to keep Granford safe, it seemed, and it was a marked contrast to somewhere like Hogsmeade: walls had been erected, but most of the defences were magical, and people didn't go around labouring their days away. There were hard wizarding workers, but the majority were complacent as they were in their safe havens.

The main square was ahead of me. There were people busy at work offloading the supplies from last night to the industrial refrigerators inside the greengrocer's, and everyone was pitching in a hand. Chances were that I'd find one of the twelve Ministry operatives working hard amongst them, so I remembered who to look for in the throng.

"... Auror Strong is under glamour," Susan had said, scanning through the roll of parchment on her desk. "He looks like a blond man with bushy eyebrows and no, I don't know why he chose that. Strong's the one who sneaks in most of the supplies Kingsley's teams drop off. And finally, there's Hit-Wizard Lucas Meadowes, not exactly an infiltration expert, but he's exceptional at fieldwork. He's brown-haired, wears no glamour nor takes Polyjuce Potion, and does heavy lifting but works in their armoury every other day."

I _hmm_'d. "Thanks Susan. So are you sure none of them have ties to the former Death Eaters? No distant cousins?"

"Harry, they're all trusted and respected workers of the DMLE. They're checked out."

But somebody will always be for sale. I didn't say that, however, instead thanking her again and adding, "As soon as we secure our way out, you'll be the first one we'll send a message too. Just a confirmation, but if I ask for some Ministry files to find themselves in my hands..."

She rolled her eyes. "Yes Harry, you'll get them Harry, is that all, Harry?"

"With courtesy like that?" I chuckled. "Are you sure there won't be any problems?"

Susan shrugged. "Stark might try to give me trouble, because the files I'll want will be like these ones, confidential. Getting a list of the operatives' glamours and real names wasn't easy, and if Stark notices... thankfully, he's easy to distract. He's too busy being Robards's Undersecretary to do much work here."

"That's not what I was talking about, but I'm glad you've got it handled. Robards agreed to put some Aurors near Bill's house, right?"

"Of course. I checked them out too, and trust me Harry, they won't let him or his family get hurt."

Bill Weasley sacrificed his chair on the Wizengamot to buy me the time I needed to get into Granford, and he made himself a target in the process. While directly going after members of the Wizengamot wouldn't be above the pureblood agenda's morals, they would avoid direct and severe action as long as there was a chance the entire Wizengamot would get thrown into disarray and the bill would be simply delayed instead of shot down entirely. My reaction to Liliford's loss would give them pause and maybe cause to strike back unpredictably, and Bill would be a good target. He had two small children and a third along the way, as well as living with my godson Teddy and the surviving Weasleys - George and Ginny. The surviving Weasley twin and my ex-girlfriend were very busy running the settlement of The Burrows while Bill had been working with me, but now that Bill dealt himself out, he joined them in being knowledgeable and occasionally helpful on matters of the Wizengamot game, but not a direct participant. It was just safer that way.

"Okay," I said to Susan. "Okay. Thanks, again, and, well, expect my letter."

"Harry," she said before I could go. "Just... bring everybody home in one piece, please. Neville has a vote in this, don't forget. He's just as important as you, and the others are too. Just... be careful."

Don't I just know it. Now, I watched from a distance as a man that was probably Lucas Meadows the Hit-Wizard and several other men carried boxes back and forth, laughing and joking with each other as they did. I thought about how to approach the man, and decided on being direct.

"Need a hand?" I offered, coming up to a burly Muggle carrying a box of tinned pineapple off the back of the truck parked in the middle of the town square.

"You couldn't lift this one," he said, not unkindly.

I shrugged. "I'm new in town, and was going crazy sitting around waiting to be assigned wherever, so I'm just... Wanting to chip in."

"Uh huh," the burly man said, squinting at me suspiciously.

"Let 'im help," said the man I hoped was Lucas Meadowes, coming up from behind me. His eyes darted towards where my scar would've been. Bingo. "Come on, to the truck, you can probably lift _something_ in 'ere."

Inside the back of the truck, Meadowes made a show of looking around to see nobody was watching before gesturing with his right hand. I cottoned on and cast a Featherlight Charm with my holstered wand, aimed at one of the smaller boxes.

"Do you do the same?" I asked him as I reached down to pick it up, making a show of pretending it was heavy.

He snorted, grabbed a sturdy-looking crate and started walking out of the back of the truck. "See you made it to town okay," he said. "Potter, my advice? Don't look so eager to help. Not until they know you a little. I know you want to waltz in and solve whatever problem you think we have, but making a spectacle of yourself to the Muggles isn't the way to do it."

I felt more than a little foolish holding up my charmed box while he was visibly straining to carry his crate, but did it anyway.

"Thanks for the advice," I said, though I really didn't mean it at all.

See, I thought about Susan's declaration that none of the Ministry workers in Granford were corrupt or connected to Death Eaters in any way, and decided right off that that was unlikely. For one thing, there was no way somebody like Selwyn would pass up a chance to have someone on the inside; even though he'd have access to the reports the operatives wrote, there was a difference between that and having eyes on the inside or a possible sleeper assassin. Though, with Meadowes, I assumed it was just the former. Astoria had told me as much when I came to see her after getting Susan's list of names.

She'd seemed surprised to see me, and honestly, I couldn't blame her. I was surprised the idea struck me to go to her again, but it was a pleasant surprise, and I felt good, right, and smart, for thinking of it. Her magical binding would restrict her in some aspects - okay, most aspects - but her basic knowledge was undeniable, even if it was just a stray overheard conversation or a bit of parchment she read. Malfoy might have wanted his wife to stay safe and off to the sidelines, but she lived in his house all day and all night, and she would know little things like who the agenda would use their gold to buy inside of Granford. The problem would be getting her to open up about it. Last time had been hard on her, but had proven to me that she was still the Astoria I was friends with, just a little older, and magically bound to some things she'd probably not wish to be bound too.

"Harry," she greeted, sweeping down the staircases in the foyer of Malfoy Manor. "Draco's not home."

"Didn't come to see him," I said, smiling at her. "Though as much as his presence will be _sorely_ missed..."

She rolled her eyes, though it was a fond gesture. "A more cynical married woman would be wondering why a dashing single man would be visiting her."

Well that just made me feel a little uncomfortable, which was probably her intention.

"You need help again, don't you."

I didn't deny it. "I can't promise it won't be the last time, and if you don't want me here, I'll go, but... You helped me once."

"Harry, you don't -" She bit her lip and sucked in a breath. "What's my name?"

"What? Astoria."

"My last name, Harry."

"Greengrass," I said immediately, instinctively, but it hung in the air just _wrong_, and Astoria's uncomfortable expression told all.

"Astoria _Malfoy_," she corrected gently. "Harry, you don't understand. I don't want to betray his secrets. I _can't _betray his secrets. He's my husband, and doing that on your whim is just not done."

There had to be something I could say, some way to reassure her and promise to keep her safe, especially from her own conscience. She was married to somebody who was involved with those who destroyed Liliford, there was no denying that.

"Things haven't changed that much," I said eventually, the plea of it ringing in my ears. I needed the information... but I needed her to understand too, a little part of me wanting to do that saving thing again. "I'm still me and you're still you. We've had some things happen over this past year, but come on, I'm not going to let Malfoy get in the way of you helping me. The binding can be worked around, and I know there has to be some part of Astoria _Malfoy_ that wants to help her friend."

Uncertainty flittered across her face. "Let's talk in the library," she said.

I tried not to let too much elation show. "I have to ask, will the house elves tell your husband I was here?"

"No," she said flatly. "The elves are my family's, and listen to me first and foremost."

"Good."

We soon found ourselves surrounded by bookshelves, her settling in on her cushioned chair and me on the one next to hers. There were more Healing textbooks sprawled on the table, but I didn't mention them. Instead, I started listing off names, all of the ones Susan gave me. I told Astoria one of them was most likely a spy paid off with Malfoy's gold, and implored her in such a way that escaped the binding she was under.

"Lucas Meadowes," she said after a minute of considering it. "The Hit-Wizard."

"Are you sure?"

"It's him."

I let out a sigh. "Right, just another one to look out for. You wouldn't know if he managed to get paid enough to try and kill me, would you?"

She stayed quiet.

"I should go."

"Wait." Her voice was hesitant. "We need to talk, Harry. I was thinking, umm, most of that time just now, not about the informant, but about you."

I considered her, her posture slumped and her pale hands playing in her lap. "What's going on, Astoria?"

"You're wrong. Earlier you said that you were still you and I was still me, and that's wrong. I'm a married woman, Harry, and I've been..." She gestured. "Locked up here for a year. All of my friends at St Mungo's died, and none of my other friends from Hogwarts can visit, even Madam Pomfrey died... But you're here. I don't like that you're trying to use me against Draco, nor do I want it to be a regular thing. I've changed, and so have you. You... don't remind me of the Harry Potter who was my friend."

Things _had_ changed over the past year, and me along with them. I knew that much - the Wizengamot game alone forced me to go with the flow and change as the game changed - but it was shocking to hear it out loud, and for her to say that I wasn't the Harry she befriended. I hadn't ever been a positive happy soul or anything, but I suppose even back at Hogwarts in my final year I was calmer, more relieved, the weight of Voldemort off my shoulders. Now, the weight was back, the stakes felt higher as I knew every implication and every possible outcome for every possible action. I didn't want a repeat of the near-miss that was the Voldemort war... and it must've showed in how I acted.

Astoria could see it. Her perspective had been locked in how she'd seen me last, a year ago in a time before Sarah's death and the worldwide spread of the outbreak.

"I'd like you to come over again," Astoria said in a quiet voice. "But not if you just _need_ something. I want my friend back, and I think you want the same with me... You said you trusted me -" I did. "- and I know that you need help -" I did. "- but I can't keep doing this and betraying Draco over and over like this. Not to a stranger who looks like the Harry I knew. And you can't keep asking me to."

Friends first. She wanted to be friends again. She could reconcile her guilty conscience with that; she was just helping out a friend.

"I'll be pretty busy with Granford," I said after a moment, my voice quiet. "But I can get out every now and then. I can come visit. Can and will." I smiled at her. "It's not right to use you like this, and if I wasn't as desperate... I wouldn't have even thought about it. So you're right. Friends. We need to be friends. I'd like that, actually."

She smiled back in full bloom, the joy reaching her eyes. "That's great. Harry, really. While you're here..." She reached over to one of the textbooks. "Remember how we first became friends? Well, uhh, I need help again."

Back then, it had been a sheepish request; I had more experience with brewing Blood Restorative Potions, and she had asked me for help. Back then we'd been two people awkwardly working in the Hospital Wing together. Now, the request was familiar, knowing, an olive branch of sorts. Now we were just two old friends awkwardly trying to reconnect.

"What do you need help with?"

"I was reading Strahl's book on diagnostic charms, and he was talking about his first variation of the charm he created, but I was wondering if you actually use it or stick to the original, because -"

I snorted out a little laugh, and at her look, elaborated, "I remember wondering the exact same thing early on working under Hunt. So, instead of asking, I tested it out on this woman under this sort-of transmogrification curse - turned into a teapot - and anyway, we were..."

I don't remember how the rest of the story really went, but it got a laugh out of Astoria and I realised I'd had a good afternoon, all in all.

I just hoped the day wouldn't come when I would betray her new trust in our friendship.

..::..-.-..::..

I spent about an hour helping out the crew transferring food into the greengrocer's refrigerators, and afterwards received directions to Abe's pub.

Abe's place was on the right side of town, on the slanting side halfway between the hospital and the town's entrance near the two bridges. Compared to the hovel he owned in Hogsmeade, Aberforth Dumbledore's establishment in Granford looked practically like a manor from the outside, the pub an old, three-story Victorian-era towering monster covering its own a street corner. I walked up to it and immediately spotted the hog's head painted on a small sign above the door. Abe certainly didn't care for keeping a low profile; as far as everyone knew he was just the eccentric bartender who went to live with the Muggles after he lost his pub in Hogsmeade. Some of the more unflattering rumours said he was just like his little sister all along, and had run off to live with his own magic-free kind. If Abe had been around to hear them, he would've most definitely shown off why he was a Dumbledore, with gusto.

The inside smelled of goats. It was a strange, wet, kind of smell, and the old Hog's Head usually hid it with the scents of tobacco smoke and Firewhiskey. Maybe it was Abe himself, maybe it was some potion he was brewing, or maybe he just wanted to feel at home, so I ignored the smell of goats and looked around the new pub.

Again, compared to his old joint this was like Buckingham Palace. It held the same old style and feel, but in less of a dank, seedy underbelly sorta way, and was instead a distinguished pub, all polished ebony wood, unchipped and recently varnished. There were tables and booths and stools up near a bar, but the place felt empty, unused, and that probably added to the dignity; it was less of a pub and more of a museum piece.

Abe himself came tromping down the stairs when he heard the bell above the door herald my entrance. He was cursing into his beard, and wearing overalls and a grungy white shirt underneath that. He looked much the same as the last time I'd seen him, gruff and grumpy.

Seeing me did nothing to add to the picture. In fact, he appeared even more grumpy just by looking at me.

"Made it, did you?" he asked shortly, walking across the room and standing behind his bar. I followed and hopped up on a barstool. He didn't serve any drinks. "We've no alcohol, 'cept for special occasions. Fortess wouldn't allow it. Don't get many customers."

"It's smart," I said, shifting in my chair. "Put a bunch of drunk people on the end of their world and with guns and zombies and..." I clicked my fingers. "Not a good idea. We've done a bit of the same back at Hogsmeade."

Abe grunted. "How's it fairing?"

"As you'd expect. People are trying too hard to pretend everything's normal. Hogwarts is packed now, and everyone in there is trying to ignore the tension between the school and the Ministry. Hogsmeade is the biggest commerce, though there's a market in The Burrows, and it has the most people to deal with. Fairlane, one of the other settlements, has all of our rich friends, while Godric's Hollow's got a bunch more." I scowled. "They don't allow Muggles anywhere except The Burrows. Something that's going to change when the disclosure passes."

"If."

"If, then. _If_ we get the disclosure bill passed." I sighed tiredly, weariness seeping into my bones. "How are things here?"

"As you'd expect," he replied. "I miss _my_ pub."

I grinned at him - that sounded almost like an accusation. "It's not my fault they burned it down."

The Hog's Head had been the home to Hogsmeade's first zombie, a man who had gotten bitten and decided a pint would be the way to soothe his wound. Long story short, Abe lost his home and business, the people of Hogsmeade had to reconcile the fact that what they burned was _not_ a rogue Inferius, and things went downhill from there on. I was busy locked down at St Mungo's at the time, but the Ministry and Diagon Alley fell while people in Hogsmeade were still scratching their heads. At the time I could imagine Abe was doing less head-scratching and more cursing, figurative and literal.

Abe only grunted in reply.

"But what's the situation here?" I asked. "Anything weird been happening lately?"

"You've got Ministry reports."

"Reports might miss some things, and they _can_ be altered. That's why you're here, Abe." He had chosen Granford for himself, and I had recruited Megan for a similar use in Liliford - Ron being her contact had given birth to their relationship in the first place. Abe's help might be reluctant, but I'd value his insight.

He nodded. "You sure Liliford's gone?"

"Saw it with my own eyes." I shivered. "Felt it, too. The Dementors..."

"I was afraid of that," Abe murmured. "Potter, there were rumours about Liliford. Things that you should've heard by now."

"Like?"

"Like the good fortune that struck a few months back. An unexpected windfall of their crops, this close to winter. Conditions there are harsher than here, and by the sounds of it, they would be able to feed their town. They just grew, higher and more bountiful."

The thought made me frown. "I can name three potions that could do that to the soil off the top of my head."

"So could I," said Abe. "Thing is, it's happening here too."

"The crops?"

"Had an unexpected growth spurt a couple of days ago. That's not the only thing. The generators for the electric fences are on, but the fuel isn't dwindling as much as it used to. The fences still work..."

"But there's some kind of magical replacement, and the petrol goes to the other generators."

He nodded approvingly. "Right. When you sent the message to me Liliford was lost I did some thinking, about the town, about everything."

I gestured for him to go on.

"There's something at work here, and I have a theory," he revealed. "Think about the Death Eaters. Somebody directing influencing things like this with magic is breaking the Statute of Secrecy. The idea would be that they would claim you broke the Statute to help the Muggles. However, just doing that is too simple, and if _I_ can figure it out, _you_ can figure it out, and they'd know you would use that against them. So they'd need some sort of insurance, because they want to cover all the sides."

"But how, exactly?"

"Think about the fact they chose Liliford first, and that the town got destroyed first. They chose a town with less people to feed, and gave them better crops. When one town hears of another town's fortune, wouldn't the second town be just as desperate for the same, especially with the coming winter?"

I realised instantly. "The crops, the fence. They give their gift to Liliford freely, but then approach Granford and _offer_ them the same. Liliford's wiped out because it's not needed anymore, and the agenda can shrug and move on."

"And how easy would it be for them to take advantage and paint themselves as rogue wizards deliberately breaking their own laws to help Granford? If the Muggles know about magic and willingly accept the help, the break to the Statute is even more severe. To achieve all of this they would have to manipulate, and push, and not even need to get their hands dirty with the Imperius."

"The Ministry spies are always on the lookout anyway."

He nodded. "And the Death Eaters would know this."

Pieces of the long game fell into place. Abe's idea didn't just have merit; it had a great possibility of being the truth. "So then they frame us. They make up a good story, find a way to frame one of my allies, and they go the Wizengamot, say that we broke the Statute because we were desperate to help the Muggles while the disclosure discussion kept going on. It wouldn't even be that big of a stretch."

"They'd use your own want to delay the vote against you. Say that you were both aiding Granford while campaigning to 'officially' help them with your bill. The best part? Because of their manipulations, you couldn't approach Fortess and tell him he's the one being manipulated. He's gotten their aid in this situation. That's all."

"But him being manipulated would go back down to him, wouldn't it? Down to Fortess's own integrity."

"It's all uncertain now, Potter. Just a theory." Abe shook his head from side to side. "All I know is that when the bill gets shot down, your side will be destroyed, and a civil war would start. Maybe the purebloods will make a patsy for Liliford. Maybe they'd take down your Minister in the process. But in the end... They'd just need one Portkey and a couple of Dementors, and Granford would be lost. They'd win. Even if you turned around and killed them back, they still would've won."

"We don't have much time, do we?"

He grunted again.

"But if they're not going to use the Imperius Curse, and we're right about Fortess being a target of their corruption... influencing Fortess the way they want to won't be easy... Do you think it's possible he's already gone?"

Aberforth sighed and leaned back against the wall. "Potter, if you had asked me some time ago if Aaron Fortess was capable of being corrupted, I would've told you no. He's a great man, and I've seen him in action. He can handle a crisis, handle the town, and is absolutely the best leader this town will ever see." But he sighed then, crossing his arms and looking to the ground, despondent. "But the crops are growing higher than they'll ever grow. The electric fence is running on magic. I wouldn't want to risk Granford on the idea that Fortess _isn't_ being influenced. If he is being influenced, corrupted and changed, then things are very much dire. Months back I would've told you he was incorruptible, like no one else. Incorruptible." His eyes moved from the floor to meet mine; they were electric blue and so much like his brother's. "But now I can't tell you for sure. Granford's in danger, your bill is in danger, and whatever you have planned might not be enough. Hell, you could be playing right into _their_ plans. Tell me, though, would you even know it?"

Good question.

..::..-.-..::..

_To Be Continued in Chapter Four: Influence..._

..::..-.-..::..

Post-Chapter Notes:

_- Next Chapter Tease ::_ Harry is called away from Granford to protect Ogden's family, and in the first big Wizengamot meeting, those for and against the bill make with the speeches. Unfortunately, no zombies in this chapter. Awkward.

_- Wizengamot Scorecard ::_ No changes, but here just to refresh. As of the end of this chapter:

- _Pro-Disclosure_ :: Harry, Neville, Susan, Antioch Boot, Brown, Patil, Hart.

- _Anti-Disclosure_ :: Malfoy, Parkinson, Bulstrode, Selwyn, Gale, Harper, Burke.

- _Swing Votes_ :: MacMillan, Smith, Diggory, Zabini, Aquilla, Cuffe.

- _Former Members ::_ Bill Weasley (Resigned).

- _Member Count ::_ Twenty.

- _Status ::_ Evenstalled.

Thanks for reading!

..::..-.-..::..


	4. Chapter Four: Influence

_Standard Disclaimer_ :: All things Harry Potter belong to JK Rowling and affiliates. This fanfiction is a non-profit venture written for the enjoyment of myself and my readers.

_Dedication :: _To Seratin, Lutris, Zeitgeist, Vira and my friends from DLP, for putting up with my insanity, for reading early drafts, and just being there. Also, to all those who reviewed/favourited/alerted me or my story here on , cheers. Props to DLP for the feedback, too.

_Preface ::_ After a bit of feedback, I've decided to move the update rate to once a week, so yeah, hence the early update. No complaints, I'm sure, but hey, incoming politics. Zombie action comes next week... I do apologise, but this one and the next were once two chapters, and it does show.

_Previously :: _Harry, Ron, Neville, Terry Boot, Ernie MacMillan and Su Li posed as Muggle survivors in order to be accepted into the town of Granford, and got it easily enough. In the process they met the main players in Granford - Aaron Fortess, his deputies Juliet and Warren, and the easygoing Stanthorpe, and Harry identified the Minister operative under Malfoy's payroll, Lucas Meadowes. Aberforth Dumbledore, placed by Harry to keep an eye on the town, dropped some powerful hints leading to the conclusion that the purebloods have a plan to discredit and destroy those that would aspire to save the Muggles, and the worst part seems to be that the odds are not looking good...

..::..-.-..::..

_Chapter Four of Sixteen: Influence_

..::..-.-..::..

"All right, anything to report?" I asked over breakfast.

"I visited the filtering station yesterday," said Terry, eating a spoonful of plain porridge. "Just thought I'd see if their tunnel out of the town is a viable escape option or not. It is, though it's wet."

"It runs right into the river," Ernie said. "What did you expect?"

Terry only shrugged in reply, and went back to his meagre breakfast. There were only five of us around the table this morning, eating in the backroom of Abe's pub. The other two families that were housed here - Muggles - ate out in the main room, but for obvious reasons, we needed to separate ourselves. We were living in the upper floors of Abe's, true to Stanthorpe's prediction, and while the lodgings were supposed to be temporary, I was more than happy to stay close to Abe, getting a feel of the town from the perspective of the town's favourite grumpy barman, even if didn't serve much alcohol.

Living at Abe's seemed to be the only thing going for us, however.

See, life in Granford moved at its own pace. We'd been here for less than a week already, but it felt longer, the days filled with hard, cold, work and the nights filled with plotting and scheming, all while trying to balance that out with the pure tiredness we all felt. I was coping with it the best; forty-eight hour Healer shifts from a lifetime ago involved just as much hard work, with working around town not dissimilar, just more Muggle. More than once, I was hit with a little surprise at how much I'd forgotten from growing up with Muggles, and this post-apocalyptic world only seemed to highlight that more and more. For one thing, I certainly never spent days at the old Durlsey home checking over anti-zombie barricades. For the others in the group, it was hard work, but they pulled through and proved their reliability without drawing too much attention to themselves.

Oh, there were slip-ups here and there, don't get me wrong.

Ernie, for one, seemed to forget that his dealings with Muggles were all theoretical before now, and sometimes walked around with the swagger of an educated man walking among savages. He spent his days mostly doing heavy lifting, but had also somehow managed to get into inventory work, the tedious and mind-numbing stuff he'd relish in, so used to the humdrum of Ministry paperwork by now. Terry was often seen volunteering to clean the town's armoury, and was always willing to drop everything if Juliet O'Flynn, Fortess's second-in-command, asked it, even when she didn't want his help specifically. Which was often. He used magic to do the cleaning for him, before heading off to explore or go looking for bottlecaps or whatever he was into this week. Neville was pretty low-key, working in the farms all day but apparently once asked a Muggle where he could find dragon manure to help grow some carrots. Ron and Su were pretty much the only ones without little cultural troubles, Ron because he must've picked up _something _on dealing with Muggles from his father, but more than likely it was the fact he was still quiet and sullen in his grief, and Su... Well, I hadn't seen her much, even though she'd been put to work in the hospital with me, dealing with a town of hypochondriacs who were convinced their next cough was a re-emergance of the zombie outbreak.

I spent as much time as I could watching Aaron Fortess. He was damned good at what he did in leading the town, and it wasn't as simple as there being signs that he was corrupt or not. I saw the magically-modified crops and I tested out the magically-charged fence, but dammit, neither of them had a specific answer. It felt like we weren't making much progress.

I let out a frustrated breath. "All right, Ernie, anything new?"

"Fascinating way of doing things around here," he replied. "The reports underestimated their tenacity and how Fortess handles trade agreements between people. If there's a dispute, he makes sure it's sorted out. Just two days ago he had one Muggle who was stealing from the town's stock of flour moved to the Tent Bridge. Apparently, most of the -"

He was interrupted by Neville opening the door, his face grave. "Harry, Ogden sent a message. He needs you immediately."

Neville had been off to check the dead drop we used for messages to the outside world. The newly-erected wards prevented apparation or portkeys in or out of the town, and making a Floo connection would've been more trouble than its worth, so the only way out of town was to walk. Outside, it wasn't that far to the drop box that wizarding scavenging teams used to drop off supplies, out near an abandoned bus station. Every morning one of us headed out to check Susan or the Ministry had left any messages, and we usually checked it again once or twice more during the day. Getting out wasn't hard; I had that covered.

"What does he want exactly?" I asked Neville, who just handed me a note in reply. I scanned it; it was short, and to the point. Ogden wanted me to live up to my word, one I'd given just a week ago after I found Liliford in mist. "Damn."

"So what is it?" Ron asked.

"His family's in trouble," I said. "All right, I need to leave for a day, maybe two. Meeting's tomorrow, as well, but I'll be back after that. Su? You remember where the Polyjuce is?"

She nodded. "Nobody would notice my absence."

"Good, good," I said. "Okay, I'm heading out. Anyone got any messages or requests?"

"Say hi to Susan for me," said Neville.

"Will do."

"And I'll see you, before the meeting."

Leaving Granford, like I said, wasn't any large hurdle to clear. I still had Dad's old Invisibility Cloak, and it was still extraordinarily useful in sneaking around, all these years later. Sometimes we went out via the Old Bridge, sometimes the Tent Bridge. The latter was harder to navigate without bumping into people, and the former usually had trucks coming in this early in the day. I didn't intend to be caught in the middle of a bridge with an oncoming truck. Not again.

The ward boundary ended about half a kilometre out of the town proper, and as soon as I crossed the Old Bridge (Got lucky; no trucks today), I jogged for the perimeter, felt a slight tingle pass over my body after the fact, turned on the spot and apparated to Hogsmeade.

I trudged a familiar trail, passed through the familiar checkpoints, and was soon within the boundaries of Hogwarts, on the path to the majestic castle's doors. As I did, I watched as two Ministry workers walked out and towards their offices outside the castle, and decided paying a visit to Susan was in order.

With the Ministry building destroyed by a mix of zombies and an Auror losing control of some Fiendfyre in an attempt to kill them, all the workers had been relocated to new offices. Some got Hogwarts' abandoned classrooms, but more room was needed for refugees than Ministry workers, and as such, most of the Ministry's finest worked out of tents on the lawn by the Quidditch pitch.

It was like a convention of strange tents, of all shapes, sizes and colours. The difference of this and Granford's Tent Bridge was true to the contrast between practical Muggles and spotty, strange, wizards, in that while Tent Bridge's tents were all uniform in colour and only varied slightly in size, they were all square-shaped things spaced out in a way that created a path for the bridge's sentries to navigate. The Ministry office tents were everywhere, on grass and dirt and one stuck halfway up a tree. They were coloured black or blue, white or green, red with pink polka dots, transparent, or all the colours of the rainbow and a few others I didn't know existed all at once. There were dome-shaped tents, triangle-shaped tents, tents on top of tents, tents on slanted hills, tents shaped like castles, tents small and large and too small and too large, especially when I figured out a few months back that the smallest tent - the Department of Magical Sports and Games, yes really it still existed for some reason - actually had the largest area on the inside.

The Department of Magical Law Enforcement's tents were bunched together against the castle's wall, a little less eclectic in style than the rest but not by much, and I knew Susan's cubicle was inside the blue tent with the two weathervanes sticking out of its roof. On my approach I noticed that Susan was in fact out and about, standing outside one of the larger tents and talking to two familiar faces.

Samuel Stark was one, and Artemis Hart the other. The former was both the Senior Undersecretary and the official DMLE Head, but usually handled the paperwork while Kingsley did the grunt work. He was a stiff-necked man with black hair greying at the temples, and regarded me cautiously as I came over. The latter, however, was grinning through his black beard; I got along with Hart a lot more.

"Harry!" Susan exclaimed in surprise. "What are you doing back?"

"Meeting with Ogden," I replied, nodding to her and the other two men in greeting. "Heading out today, Hart?"

He was dressed in a robe of black cloth that looked thicker than usual; protective coating from the cold and a bit of anti-zombie spellwork woven into the material. "Trying Cardiff again. Scout reported the Dementors moved on from the bay, so we might poke around for a bit."

"Your funeral," I joked. "Nothing worth finding out there. It's _Wales_, for one thing."

"As interesting as this is..." interjected Stark, checking a golden pocketwatch in his hands. "I must be off. Miss Bones, remember what we talked about."

Susan nodded, her face a mask, and watched her superior head into the nearby tent, leaving behind tension and a chill in his wake.

"Wizengamot meeting tomorrow," Hart said, to break the silence. "Is that why you're back, Harry? Doing some campaigning?"

The thought had occurred. "I'll try to get a feel for some of our more neutral members when I have the time."

"Good luck with that." Hart snorted. "Cuffe, for one, is being a right unpleasant bastard about everything. Running articles on all of us daily now."

"I was going to drop some copies off at the dropbox just now," Susan said tiredly. "Stark cornered me first. Sorry, Harry."

"No harm," I assured her. "Might be what Ogden wanted to talk to me about." Or something as equally as related.

Hart _hmm_'d. "Saw Cuffe himself heading up to the castle right now, so he's probably having a talk too." He shook his head. "I must digress; I need to get my team together anyway." He held out his hand and I shook it, and he tipped his head to Susan. "Harry, Susie. Until tomorrow."

Once he was out of earshot, I lowered my voice and asked Susan, "What did Stark want to talk about?"

She sighed. "Would that I really knew where it came from, Harry, but he was trying to get me to leave the department's affairs out of yours and the Wizengamot's. He's a stickler like that, nothing to worry about."

Nothing too out of the ordinary, and to be expected, I suppose. Susan could handle it; she had gotten herself a good deal of practice in handling situations since agreeing to back my disclosure bill.

"Anything else to report?" I asked. Her drop box letters had been none-too-informative, but there was a good chance she just didn't want to risk putting some thoughts to ink and parchment.

She bit her lip. "There's a rumour going around. I heard it two days ago, from Hart who heard it from Cuffe who heard it from Zabini who heard it from Flint... but I'm not sure you're going to like it."

Well now I was just curious more than anything. "What's going on?"

"They're trying to break the evenstall. It's going to come up in tomorrow's meeting, Harry."

It wasn't a shock. The evenstall was just that, a stall. It stopped progress on all fronts and prevented the calling of the big vote, which the pureblood agenda wanted to get out of the way as soon as possible, for obvious reasons. Giving me time to campaign, gather votes or support, or even work out their plans and get them arrested would not be in their best interest, so they'd scramble to cover the evenstall as soon as possible. While I don't like it, I knew it would be coming, so Susan's reaction puzzled me.

Until she said, "The new chair's going to be seated by Astoria Malfoy."

My mind scrambled the pieces. They wanted to break the evenstall. Astoria helped me out twice now. Ogden's family was being threatened. The first meeting was tomorrow, and we'd be talking about Liliford, an opportunity the purebloods wouldn't squander. I couldn't afford to be away from the Muggles long, but if the agenda would seat Astoria, break the evenstall and call for the vote... I needed to take advantage of the time I had outside of Granford. I gave myself forty-eight hours.

"Owl Bill," I told Susan. "Tell him I'll need his help in this, and try to set up dinner with MacMillan and Smith - tomorrow night, after the meeting."

"You said you weren't going to get Bill involved."

"I need to take advantage, and if I take him with me to dinner with the other two, it can be casual, relaxed. Nothing overt or any more speeches, but just something to get a feel for them, and them for me." I shook my head. "Bill's a target either way. His family, Ginny, George, The Burrows... It won't matter if he helps me out with this lunch. I'm sure of it." If not, well, just another person I couldn't save. "Then afterwards, drop a message in the drop box and tell them to cover for me for two days at the maximum. Oh, and say hi to Neville when he gets out. He said the same."

An odd look crossed over her face, and she looked embarrassed for some reason. "Err... Okay. Anything else?"

"Just remember that if you need me desperately, use the Patronus, like we agreed, okay? If I'm in Granford, don't worry, because that's why someone invented Memory Charms."

"Got it. That all?"

I told her yes, that I needed to get up to see Ogden, and I promptly headed off to do just that. The usual trip up to the Room of the Requirement followed, and as I turned the corner of a hallway on the seventh floor of Hogwarts, I bumped into yet another esteemed Wizengamot member.

"Harry Potter," Cuffe said, surprised, dusting off his shoulders from our near-miss. Hawk-like eyes narrowed down at me. "I take it you heard the news?"

"I've heard a few things today."

"It seems the evenstall is being broken. Absolutely strange move from Weasley, don't you think? He probably resigned to prevent himself becoming a target. I mean, after Liliford..." He clacked his tongue behind his teeth. "We'd all have concerns for our own safety."

"Are you concerned about yours, Cuffe?" I asked politely.

"I have a handle on the situation most would lack perception of," he replied.

_And a high opinion of yourself_, I added silently.

"You _are_ the news," I agreed, not in a way one could call positive.

"I was just asking for a quote from Ogden, about the meeting tomorrow," said Cuffe. "He didn't seem to want to offer anything, but would you...?"

The look on his face, as if we were sharing an inside joke, let me know that he didn't expect me to comply. "I'll let the meeting do my talking plenty," I said evenly. "If you can find a good quote from my speech, use that."

He tipped his head slightly. "And yet, you're well aware I cannot report on what happens in those meetings beyond what the Chief Warlock would let me. As such, no quotes."

"Whoops," I said.

"Very well then," Cuffe said, unfazed. "If I'm not keeping you..."

This time, I didn't offer my hand to shake. "Until tomorrow's meeting."

"Oh I am very much looking forward to it."

..::..-.-..::..

"They're threatening my family, Harry," Ogden said gravely, leaning back into his chair, digging his shoulders into the grooves in the wood. "I can't not act."

"We always knew this was a possibility."

"They're not asking for much."

"They're asking you to compromise an agreement, look the other way, and get them Astoria Greengras in a chair, for them. For their vote."

"The Greengrass deal has a loophole, one that I'll have to exploit... Harry, it's my family."

I sighed. Ogden had been worried from the moment I had walked into his office, that much was obvious. "The Greengrasses lost their chair after the war, didn't they? How will you get around that?"

"A simple matter," he replied, his voice laced with disgust. "The deal struck stipulates that no Greengrass will sit their chair for a century."

"But Astoria's not a Greengrass," I said, remembering her own declaration on the matter. "She's married to Malfoy, and..."

"A technicality," Ogden said. "Parkinson mentioned it to me, when we met yesterday and he none-too-subtly threatened my family. Mrs Malfoy would technically hold a bastard chair, despite sharing a last name with another member."

It made sense. A bastard chair was the term for a chair holder that wasn't sitting in an official seat. Bill, for example, had sat in the Prewett seat inherited from his mother's side, because the Weasley seat had been sold off more than a century ago. It wouldn't take much for Ogden to swing this; like he said, a simple matter.

He would say no any other day of the week. But when his family was threatened...

"That's why you came to me," I said. "I can't stop them making threats. We moved your family somewhere isolated, and we have Aurors watching them..."

"You promised you would take care of any threats."

"I know. I don't mean to welch out on that promise, but..." The Ogdens were always going to be threatened into pushing Tiberius into doing _something _for the pureblood agenda. Threatening was one thing, but outright doing something dangerous could backfire spectacularly; Ogden could turn around, call up his friend the Minister for Magic, and get them all arrested. Well, only he wouldn't, and neither would Robards. So if they were to hurt Gladys, Ogden's wife, Amaris, his daughter, or Ellie, his granddaughter, they would use cat's paws and people paid by people paid by people they had somebody else paid to pay, stuff like that. By the time we'd trace back, get the evidence and do some arresting... Ogden's family would be hurt or killed, and Ogden would do anything to prevent that.

"Just visit them, please," Ogden implored. "Go check up on them, double-check the wards, add new ones... Do something."

"Granford's important now, more than ever. I told you in my letter that the purebloods are going to make it look like we broke the Statute, use our own delaying tactic against us -"

"Granford can wait, and you know it. They're acting on something else now."

"Sir, Robards offered his help in this too. Just let him send a few more Aurors, and we can put a -"

"No, Harry," he said forcefully. "After everything I've done for you, backing you every step of the way..."

I felt a mixture of shame and annoyance at him guilting me like that. "I can't guarantee I'll be able to do anything. They might already predict you sending me, and then, well... They'd just wait until I left. And I would leave, Tiberius. I have to take care of things in Granford; we just got there, and nothing's been solved yet. It's frustrating, but that's life. We're dealing with dangerous men who will consider every move, every step... Like this one, with Astoria."

"How so?"

"I was concerned about Draco Malfoy," I admitted, as much as it pained me. I mean, really, 'Draco Malfoy' and 'concerned' don't go together, unless the sentence was, 'I'm concerned about how he's bleeding to death too fast' or something. "I visited him last week, because I thought he could give me something. He was unhelpful as you'd expect, but you don't know him like I do, sir. He got in deep with Voldemort and pulled out when it got too much and he didn't want to be that person, but with this, here, today, he's a political star, with the gold and the capital to help fuel the agenda. If he was threatened, or coerced, or made to go in over his head again..." I cleared my throat. "I visited him, but it was Astoria who told me that Granford was next. I think he got her to tell me because he was too stubborn to do it himself. And if the agenda figured out, they'd pay him back and ensure his loyalty... By making Astoria a target now, proping her up in a chair for all to see. Malfoy's been trying to protect her, keep her safe, and now... Point is, they've got plans."

Ogden gave me a steely-eyed gaze. "And my family will not become apart of any of them."

"They already are."

"_Please_, Harry."

I didn't have much time. The meeting was at eleven tomorrow, and I needed time to plan and discuss things with my friends... I could give Ogden the day. Maybe if I solved these threats now, we could avoid his family being threatened to get Ogden to call the final vote early...

So I said, "I'll do it."

Off to see the Ogdens it was.

..::..-.-..::..

Let it never be said I'm skilled at dealing with scared mothers.

"You're being threatened," I said testily, feeling the formation of a steady headache. "You, your mother and your daughter. You can't just ignore that."

Amaris Ogden glared at me with dark, fury-soaked, eyes. She was a tall woman, thickly built with dark hair and a backbone made of molten, pure bitch steel, and was making me already regret agreeing to help Ogden's family out. How a nice man like him could produce her from his loins made me wonder, and cast a look at her mother and Ogden's wife, Gladys. She was a frail old thing, withered as a prune and toting around a cane, but radiated kindly warmth. Amaris, on the other hand, was cold. Very cold.

The Ogdens's cottage was located high in the Scottish highlands, seeking refuge in what was an old, abandoned, farm surrounded by woodland on top of a hill. I heard that the distillery in the barn had been the first to produce the Ogden's Finest Firewhiskey, but the place had been long-abandoned before Ogden decided to use it as a safehouse for his family. It was Unplottable, warded to high hell, patrolled by two live-in Aurors, and as quaint as they come, a freezing cold cottage beside a farmhouse in the middle of nowhere. Seclusion up here was a little less voluntary than any of the Ogden ladies would've chosen, but they recognised the need to be kept safe and isolated.

Two of them also recognised that I was there to help. The other was Amaris.

"No," she said stubbornly, shaking her head at me. "I have no intention of ignoring threats. Your very presence is one, and I'm reacting to it."

"And how do you figure that, exactly?"

"I've read the papers, years ago. You're unstable, and dangerous."

Ellie Ogden gasped from her spot at the doorway, far away from any possible fallout from her mother's little tantrum. Ellie was four years younger than me, with shiny dark hair running down to the small of her back and full, pouty, lips. "Mum, those papers were Hippogriff shit, and you know it."

"There were truth in the lies," her mother snapped back. "He may not've been lying about You-Know-Who, but there was no denying that he was dangerous! He broke countless laws, used multiple Unforgiving Curses and wasn't even persecuted for it. And now!" She scoffed. "My father wouldn't have agreed to anything if it wasn't Harry bleeding Potter asking him for help. He's making a mockery of the Wizengamot to take advantage of the situation and cause more strife! We wouldn't be here right now if he wasn't pushing his luck and taking Dad down with him."

"We wouldn't be here at all if Harry Potter hadn't done half the things he'd done, dear," Gladys interjected pointedly. I felt a rush of warmth for the old lady. On _my_ side.

"I don't like intruding on you or your family, Mrs Ogden," I told Amaris clearly. "You see my presence as a beacon for trouble, and while I don't begrudge you that, I ask that you just, I don't know, relax, and wait and see before judging. Your father asked me here as a friend, and I'm here because of _that_, not the Wizengamot or some need to go out and provoke people."

"See, Mum? He's not going to hurt us or anything," said Ellie, venturing forward with the air of somebody approaching a crouching tiger. "And I'd rather him here than not. If you're going to get threatened, might as well have Harry Potter around to intercept the threat."

My side, again. Liked her too.

Amaris went quiet, shaking her head again, left to right, back and forth. She seemed to struggle to bite down what she wanted to really say, maybe for the sake of her daughter, maybe because she knew she was outnumbered. After a while she just stood from the kitchen table and left, and I heard a door slam soon after.

"I should probably go for a walk," I said to the silent kitchen. "For the best."

And besides, I needed to check on the wards. Outside, the ground was muddy from the morning's rain, and I trudged through it, away from the warm white painted cottage and towards the old, red-roofed, barn, walking the trail as long as stone's throw and illuminated by slivers of early afternoon light shining through the treetops. Once I was there, I pulled open the half-rotted barn door with both hands and it let out a great creaking noise, rusty hinges squealing as it moved. Inside, there was not much to see beyond dust, cobwebs and broken down equipment straight out of the Middle Ages. I waved my wand to make a comfy chair appear out of thin air, which was not as easy as Dumbledore made it out be, by the way; my chair was lumpy.

I settled back into the lumpy chair and closed my eyes, waiting, focusing, waiting some more. The feeling that I was wasting time seeped into me and turned into irritation, but I fought it back. _For Ogden_, I told myself. _A favour for a friend and ally._

"What are you doing?" I heard, and snapped up out of my chair and pointed my wand directly into the surprised face of Ellie Ogden.

"Shit," I cursed, dropping my hand forcefully. "Sorry, you just shocked me."

"That's okay," she said, but her knees were wobbling; though it was drafty out here. I cast a Warming Charm in the air, and when the rush of heat hit her, she smiled a little smile. "I just came to apologise, you know. For my mother."

"S'okay," I replied, settling back into my chair. I conjured another chair for her, putting a bit more effort into making it more comfortable - it came out pink for some reason, and Ellie looked even more amused as she settled into it.

"Thought I'd come out get away from the house for a bit," she said, squirming in such a way that was pleasing to the eye. "I love my mother, but she's becoming unbearable as time goes on, and that she insinuates _you_ of all people are trying to get us into danger is just..." She pointed a finger at her head and twirled it around.

I chuckled. "I understand where's she coming from. Mothers act a little crazy in the name of their children." My chuckle erupted into a laugh. "I remember this one woman back at St Mungo's whose son had been cursed. The kid was a Muggleborn, and she was a Muggle, but she managed to successfully cower a few of our best by threatening to figure out a way to learn magic and hex them if they didn't save her child."

"And what happened?"

"Her reign was ended by Sarah's Cheering Charm."

She giggled, a light and musical sound. "Is Sarah your girlfriend?" she asked.

"Was."

"Oh. Sorry."

"S'okay. It's a long story."

"Can't imagine." Her smile disappeared, and she became fidgety in her chair, awkward. "Did you want me to go? I mean, you were out here alone..."

"I was checking the wards," I assured her. "Uhh... do you know how they work?" She shook her head no, so I continued, "A ward is just the colloquial term of a spell that's used to protect a home. See, an Anti-Apparation Charm is just a charm, but in use over an area like this, it's called a ward. There's a whole bunch set up around here, and since I'm the one who put them there with a friend of mine, I can use a spell to sort-of tap into them, figure out if somebody's tampering with them or not."

"And you're about to do this spell?"

"Already have. I just figure I need to be someplace quiet, peaceful, so I can hear it better. Don't really know what to expect."

"Oh." She stopped fidgeting in her chair. A hand went through her hair in a nervous gesture. "Uhh... how long will you be out here?"

"Dinner's in six hours?"

"Yeah, thereabouts."

I smiled at her. "Until then. Afterwards, all night if I have to."

Ellie immediately volunteered. "I'll stay too. I mean, better you than my mother."

I leaned back in my chair, chortling, and gestured for her to do the same. What followed was a lot like taking a nap in a summer afternoon, the warm haze of my spell settling into my skin and pinning me to my chair, my eyes lidded and my thoughts drowsy, sluggish. Ellie was much the same, curled up in her chair with her legs underneath her, eyes flittering open and shut. What little light seeped into the barn signalled me that night was coming: from bright yellow to a dimmer hue, to orange and pink, and finally, darkness. When my Warming Charm disappeared and the night's cold returned, Ellie bolted up in her chair suddenly, shivering.

She yawned heavily; I didn't even realise she'd been napping, and I wasn't sure I hadn't done the same. Her yawn turned into a stretch, and I decided to avert my eyes this time.

"Mum will be getting worried," she said between great gasps of air. "Cold."

A gentleman wizard always made sure a girl was warm, and I cast the spell again, this time at her instead of just the air. "Come on, let's head back," I said, and off we went.

The muddy path welcomed us back to the cottage, a bright crescent moon hanging in the sky. The smell of something cooking whipped through the air, and Ellie inhaled it. "I had fun, this afternoon," she said. "Not what I thought your idea of a lazy afternoon would involve, but fun. Relaxing."

It had been, and I didn't realise how much I needed it until I was already half-asleep on my lumpy chair. "Almost like flying," I told her wistfully.

"Hardly compares," she said with a laugh. "For me, anyway. I saw you play once when I just started Hogwarts. You were very good."

I took in her face and tried to place it among the throng of many students in Hogwarts's hallowed halls a lifetime or two ago. While I doubt her hair was as long or her figure as full at eleven or twelve, I mentally subtracted a few years, added a few pimples and other awkward signs of growing up, and my mind clicked. "Gryffindor?" I asked.

"Go Lions."

"So you were still at Hogwarts when all this started?"

"Finished sixth year," she said, nodding. "Never got that far into seventh when we had to move here."

"Good thing, I reckon. For one thing, you dodged the NEWTs."

She raised an eyebrow. "Is that why you decided to go off and kill You-Know-Who, to get out of NEWTs?"

"My only downfall was that I decided to go back the year after."

We both had a little laugh at that. "But seriously," she said after, the cottage closer than before. "It was nice, Harry. I don't mean to sound... I dunno, you know... but after being stuck here in the name of being kept _safe_..." She pulled a face. "Good to have a new face around."

She reminded me of Astoria then, so much so. Similar situations, similarly happy lives turned ill by war and family problems. But Astoria held herself more stonily, and tried not to let her frustration or her depression in her situation show, while Ellie was younger, more outgoing. Astoria was surrounded by an empty home, zombies and house elves, while Ellie had loving (even if one of them had a funny way of showing it) family with her, a warm cottage... Astoria was in danger of being made a target by my side, which I'd never allow. Ellie was in danger from their side, where they wouldn't just end her and her mother and her grandmother's life. Both women lived on a precarious balance. Odd to think about, but there it was.

I don't know why my mind automatically went to Astoria.

Ellie led me back into the cottage, where Amaris and Gladys were waiting. A quiet, but delicious, dinner followed. Food in Granford was rationed and simple, while this was a meal, home-cooked with everything I'd missed about a quiet life contained inside. I'll say this about Amaris: she was a good cook.

Ellie followed me out into the barn after dinner, and we talked a little about Hogwarts, life before all this. She told me about her fourth year at Hogwarts, when the Carrows and Snape were running things. It was told in a hushed tone, like she didn't want to speak ill of it because of pure fear. I wondered for a moment what she'd seen that she didn't tell me, but didn't push. I didn't want her pushing back, especially with the opening I gave her about Sarah...

She fell asleep around one a.m., and I put her to bed right after, heading out my chair in the barn to feel the wards again. Sometime in the night, my Warming Charm failed, and the cold mixed with the fugue state gifted by the spell, leaving the feeling of drifting in an ocean, waves pushing at my legs, with a prickling feeling at the back of my neck becoming more and more pronounced as time went on. I shut my eyes and opened them every now and then, and time passed in the middle, but I never actually slept.

When I blinked my eyes one last time, it was sunrise, and Ellie was standing over me.

"Harry, it's breakfast time," she said, smiling. "Thanks for putting me to bed last night, by the way."

"No problem," I replied, feeling the tiredness set in the moment I stood from my chair. "Come on."

We met with Gladys on the way into the cottage. She was coming from the other path, looking twice her size in a woollen jumper and huge, thick, wellington boots. "Delivering breakfast to Jason and Mayhew," she told us, smiling maternally. "They have a tent down the road."

"The Aurors?" I asked. "Are they patrolling the perimeter yet?"

"They do their best, but there's only the two of them," said Gladys. "They're only human, Harry, and they need food."

I should probably get more out Aurors here, especially after what I found last night.

Breakfast was bacon and eggs on toast, with a side of sausages and fried tomato. Like last night's dinner, it was eaten in silence. Gladys seemed content in it, Ellie was busy sending me little knowing looks, and Amaris was coiled up, tense as a spring and ready to strike. Looking at her in between chewing on crispy bacon, I got the sudden feeling her silence had been her composing a confrontation of some kind. And then she sprung.

"We're bait," she said sharply. "You were out all night, watching the wards. Watching, waiting. I wonder how hard it would be for you to take the wards down just a little, to get somebody outside to feel overconfident, to cross the boundary and waltz into our home. Then you could play the big hero -"

"Mum!" Ellie said, scandalised.

But her mother wasn't going to stop anytime soon. "- and then when you caught whoever was attacking us, you'd use them, just like you used us! If we're alive after, or if we're dead, it doesn't matter, because either way you got what you _needed _for your game. If we survive the attack and you save the day, you'll be more than happy to get me to say I was wrong about you, Harry Potter. But I don't trust you, or the games you play."

"Dear Amaris," Gladys interjected. "Please shut up."

Amaris flinched as if she'd been struck. "He's not denying it -"

"Because he's got nothing to need to deny!" Ellie snapped. "You've been on his case since he got here, and he's been nothing but kind and -"

"Ellie," I said quietly. "Stop. Thanks, but unfortunately, your mother is right."

Now Ellie looked like she'd been slapped, and she gaped at me. "What -"

"I knew that you would be targeted by somebody eventually. You're a good target because of Tiberius's position as Chief Warlock, and he won't stand any harm to come to you. If you get threatened, he folds." I looked at Gladys specifically as I said, "I don't doubt his integrity, but he holds too much influence to not be taken advantage of. I didn't mean to be here, but since I am, I intended to root out your stalker. Did you know since I got here that the wards have been touched every six hours? I don't know if it's the same when I'm not here, but... You have a visitor."

"And you're using us as bait," said Amaris, scoffing. "I knew it."

"Not in the way you think you do," I snapped. "I won't let those wards go down, I won't let you all get hurt, trust me. I have intention of playing up the big hero like you thought I would, Amaris. But I have a meeting in five hours or so, and if our friend comes back on the six hour mark... I'll have him caught without you all or those two Aurors out there needing to spare a damned thought. _Trust me on that_." I looked at all their faces: Gladys, serene and unmoving, Amaris, disdainful, Ellie, frightened. "And yes, I will use him. Because that's how the game is played. End of discussion. After this is all done, I'm going to have the Fidellius Charm put up. It should've been up earlier, but Tiberius abstained it."

"Why?" Gladys asked. "I'm familiar with the charm, and if it would keep us safe all the more..."

It was simple, and more than a little heartrending. "Because he doesn't want to forget where you are, and he will if the charm goes up. He'll have no idea you're safe and warm in this cottage, or anything like that. He never wanted the charm up because he would've gone from losing you temporarily to losing you permanently, until all this is said and done."

Gladys let out a soft sigh, an "Oh" of air, leaning back in her chair and murmuring, "The fool."

"But the visitor?" Ellie piped up. "Harry, if you get rid of him, there'll be another. Or more than one. Or..."

_Trust me, I've thought of that_, I thought. It wouldn't be difficult for the purebloods to say, release some Dementors outside the boundary of the Fidellius and let them smell out the fresh souls in the area. They could do the same to Granford despite the wards. It was just that simple, and of course my way of stopping _them_ had to be the most complex way imaginable.

"I'm heading out," I told the silent table, breakfast long forgotten and cooling on our plates. "After I intercept our new friend, I'm going to leave, but you'll have more Aurors nearby, and the Fidellius a few days from now. I'll be your Secret Keeper."

"You'll be back to visit though, right?" Ellie asked. "Not all charms are infallible, and..."

"I will," I assured her, shooting a quick smile that earned a glowing one in reply. Guess I made an impression on her. "Now, it's off to make a new friend."

..::..-.-..::..

I found him in the woods, just beyond the boundary. It wasn't easy, hell no, and I'm glad I had about four hours to navigate the area. It was all hill, mud and trees, for all to see. It started raining two hours in, wiping away signs of my passing, leading to me walking in circles for longer than I'd like to admit. A bit of magic was useful here and there, but my biggest problem was that I was essentially following a vague feeling. It was a thought or a notion I couldn't fathom, within grasp, the beat of song stuck in my head but the name of the tune escaping me. I had gained a slight awareness of my friend testing the wards with his magic in my trips into the barn, but it was just that, _slight_. A heavy breath, a pair of broad shoulders, a murmured word and a wand, short and thick, made of dark wood, lighting up a spell in the woods. I wandered the forest to find where this notion was made, because he made it three times in the last eighteen hours, in the exact same spot. Apparate in, test the wards, disapparate out. A pattern.

When I finally found the right spot, it was like a light turning on in my head. Rain ran down my glasses and I let it, because it seemed to form a shape in a grove in front of me, a squat figure with the squarish shoulders I'd seen before, and his face was rough, brutish. When the rain showed me who I was looking at, I knew instantly it was Harper, of the Wizengamot.

Which made it all the more fun when he showed up for his next check. I got the drop on him, hitting him in the back with my first spell.

However, to my dismay, the spell was absorbed into the material of his cloak; basic shield cloak. But it definitely got his attention, and his teeth were bared in a snarl as he turned his wand on me. He didn't say anything and flicked his stubby little wand, a burst of dark brown light shooting out of the tip.

I ducked, and deflected his next spell with one of my own just as the first spell crashed into a tree behind me, burning a hole through the wood and exploding splinters from both sides. Rain poured down on me as I stood on uneven, muddy, forest floor, stepping around wood and moss to catch Harper's Bone-Breaking Curse with a concave shield. The explosion of light danced on my vision, but I didn't let it completely blind all my senses; through the rain I heard Harper huff in exertion, footsteps crunching on twigs as he came closer, and closer...

A burst of wind threw me to the side, issued out of the tip of my own wand. Doing so allowed three black scythes of light to sail harmlessly through the air where I was standing last, and threw Harper off long enough for me to shoot off a reply. I swung my arm out wide and snapped it back in a quick motion; an arc of formless light followed, and moved out in a jet towards the man. Red light blew up the ground at his feet, and mud splattered up to his face and into his eyes. He began to curse and splutter loudly, but his wand kept shooting out more brown balls of energy, exploding more and more trees in contact, only two of them even getting close to where I was. But, he was blind and I was not, and my next spell caught him in the side, winding him enough for him to drop his wand.

It was over quickly enough. I summoned the wand to me, conjured a rope, and bound the man tightly with another spell. To add insult to injury, I tied him up by his ankle on a tall tree branch, on a tree in between two he had taken holes out.

"Hello!" I said cheerily, the adrenaline wearing off. "Hanging around, waiting for something to happen? It's okay, I'll make something happen, and it will be very, _very_, painful." I dropped my false smile. "I know a lot of Healing spells, but I know more than can cause pain. A flick of my wand and... Well..."

"Potter, you little -"

I Silenced him. "No no no. No talking. Where were we? Right. Pain. No okay I'll skip that part. You're the one that's been tapping my wards. _You_." A brute with a wand who's speciality involve murder and mayhem and not cursebreaking. I'm not flattered. "They had to have known that I would add something so that I could sense the wards were being checked... But they still sent one of their number, a vote on the Wizengamot. Either you are just a messenger or they really think you're just expendable."

Harper's eyes widened in rage, and screamed soundlessly. His face was wet and smudged with mud, and one of his cheeks had gotten cut in the battle, and drops of blood and wet dirt spat at my glasses, washed off by the rain immediately after.

"Relax Harper, I'm not going to have you arrested or killed today, as much as it pains me. I'm banking that they wanted me to find you, so you'll need to send a message. Tell them to fuck off. Tell them to leave the Ogdens alone, because they have bigger fish to fry. I'm close Harper, damned close, to ending you lot for good. And maybe you'll react, and I'll react, or maybe we'll all pretend to react while waiting for the next step of the game. I don't know, but I have better things to do, more people to save. I can't save them all, yeah, but I can save more than you can hurt." I got up close, real close, and snarled out, "Maybe you should stay here for an hour, and think about why they sent you to potentially get arrested and your vote rendered worthless. Or maybe you volunteered, is that it? I know your type; you probably thought the Ogden ladies would make an excellent _prize_."

He said nothing - not like he could, but I doubted he would've anyway - just glared at me with the intensity of a thousand torturous deaths by fire.

"Oh, and Harper, I quite like seeing you strung up like a pig, but for your sake I'd hope it doesn't become a habit. The rope will cut off in an hour, just in time for the meeting, and since it's unlikely the Aurors will get here by then..." I shrugged. "You'll live."

Today. He'll live today.

..::..-.-..::..

"I did all I could today," I was telling Ogden an hour later, locked up with him in his office, swirling some scotch in a glass but not drinking it. I'd cleaned myself up of rain, mud and various debris from the battle; I had made it out uninjured, thankfully. I hadn't elected to tell Ogden about Harper specifically, because ally or not, Tiberius Ogden was still Chief Warlock of the body of wizards that Harper was a part of, and he would not take that treason lightly. Ironic that I was only adding to the control the purebloods had, but it wouldn't be a big advantage for either side. "In the time I had... It's time we cast the Fidellius, Tiberius."

His face fell. "Oh."

"I'll be Secret Keeper if you'll permit it, and I'll be there when it gets cast, which will be by the end of the week if I can help it. Also, you might want to consider taking up the Robards's offer for extra Aurors to patrol the boundary. Our dear Minister doesn't like to act much, but this'll he act on, definitely. Again, I'll be there personally to check over every wizard he appoints to the task if you want me." I gave him a frank look. "My presence might've served to endanger your family more, unfortunately. If I get the time to get out of Granford I'll go check on them, but... There are many other concerns, and... I'm sorry to just, you know, filch this -"

"No, it's all right Harry," Ogden said quietly. "How were they?"

"Good. I mean, I only met them once before this, but they all have their good qualities." I'd obviously decided not to get into Amaris Ogden's disdain for me. "Your wife is quite a woman, I must say. Sharp, perfectly unassuming, but definitely sharp." At this, Ogden chuckled. "Ellie was good company too, funny and polite, and she's coping well. Amaris... Is a good cook." See? I can be fair.

It was soon time to head off - meeting preparation, on both our ends - and as we shook hands, he said to me, "Thank you, Harry. For everything. You've done enough to ease my mind, and that's enough."

_I used your family as bait_, I wanted to say. _I know who tried to tamper with their wards, I know what he'd do to your family if he got ahold of them, but I let him go because the game needed to be played. I used him, and I used you. _

And I'd do it all over again.

..::..-.-..::..

"So why the books?" Neville asked, wearing plum robes and with his Wizengamot brooch in place, as I walked out of St Mungo's and onto the sunny street. It was a fake sort of sunny, where it was out and bright, but the air was cold, and biting gales picked up every few minutes, wizards and witches nearby driving their heads down to avoid the sting of the air on their faces.

I juggled the three books in one hand while grasping for my wand with the other, trying not the let the weight of _Lynch's Compendium of Counterclockwise Charmwork_ distract me into dropping the much slimmer book entitled _Solomon's Notes On Cutting People Open_. "For a friend," I told Neville as I shrunk the three down into manageable sizes before pocketing them. "You guys handle the pre-meeting without me?"

"Yeah, all went well. And the Ogdens?"

The reminder made me sigh. "They'll be safe, hopefully."

Neville had no reply to that, and the two of us set off down High Street, walking past old and homely buildings, some creaking and shuddering in the wind, with people scurrying back and forth, darting from one side of the street to the other. Hogsmeade had become a hub for a lot of the old services Diagon Alley had offered; there were more shops and stalls, trading posts for anything and everything; a makeshift set of banks that were such poor imitations of Gringotts without the goblins that a lot of people kept their gold at home; the new _Daily Prophet _and affiliated news offices. Simply put, the town had doubled in size and population, going from a quaint village to a bustling one, a mismatch of old and new buildings. We walked past them all on the route back to Hogwarts, and with all the theastral-drawn carriages already in use, we trudged up to the castle on foot, a fence keeping the Forbidden Forest away from the well-travelled road.

While we walked, we talked, about the plans for the meeting, the points our side had to hit, and the conversation took us all the way to the castle gates where, after being checked by security Aurors, we took the rest of the path to the front doors. As we got closer, more and more figures in plum robes were flocking inside, for the meeting.

"You're out of uniform," Neville pointed out to me.

"Oh right." I turned my wand on myself and twirled it, my robes going from black to deep plum, silky to touch and whipping in the breeze. I fished the Wizengamot brooch - sterling silver, a cursive_ 'W' _- from my pocket and pinned it to my chest. "Here goes nothing."

The Great Hall had been transformed for the occasion, but different than our usual seating arragements. Instead of the large table we usually sat at, there were twenty throne-like chairs sitting in a semicircle, evenly spaced away from each other and each displaying a house sigil on the back. The chairs were overlarge and made of old wood, as ostentatious as these things got. But it was all to sell the tradition of the Wizengamot, and the purebloods all looked comfortable in theirs. My chair, on the left side of the room in between Neville and Adelle Zabini, nearly swallowed my backside into it.

When I sat, I noticed I was sitting directly opposite Draco Malfoy. I didn't know what to make of that, but it allowed me to keep a close eye.

Ogden called the meeting to begin at eleven o'clock, with the summit planned to go for several hours. Everyone would have a chance to speak about the issue of Liliford, and they did. Even Malfoy kept his mouth shut as several members offered condolences to some of the losses, more than a few distant cousins lost in the mist with the rest of the town. It was only when Susan got her turn when the loss of the Muggles was even mentioned, and she was quick to point out the overall net loss being higher, and how the total tragedy needed to be realised by everyone on the Wizengamot.

It was a nice speech, one I had heard multiple times before. It was part of a plan of ours, with Susan, seen as the younger version of her aunt Amelia Bones, offering the fair, just and logical facts right off the bat, and then Neville, part of a family that always stuck stalwart by its allies, parroting those opinions with a weighty approach, reminding everyone present of our intended argument once more.

And I, wanting to take every advantage I could, elected to speak last, letting the opposing side do their worst in the meantime.

And, to their credit, they were well prepared.

Leo Parkinson waxed on about his wife's cousin Julius, an Auror who had been one of the watchmen outside of Liliford. Marco Bulstrode rattled off the name of every lost wizard and witch, shook his head at the end and added, "Liliford was just not worth it." Burke offered simple condolences, Gale stuttered through his speech, and Malfoy was as silent as me, ever watchful. It wasn't a perfect cumulative effect such as our side's, but it was just as direct, dissenting our opinions with their own and reminding the group exactly what losing Liliford lost wizardkind.

Christian Selwyn went last from their side, standing up from his chair in a smooth, almost liquid, way, calm and poised as he stood before us, his back to the High Table and his cold dark eyes glittering at the Wizengamot all at once. Across from me, Malfoy was giving Selwyn his full attention, and I did the same, because Christian Selwyn always had a good speech prepared.

"My friends, we are faced with a perilous issue this morning, and it casts a whole new light on a familiar issue - disclosure. Miss Bones reminded us all of the loss of Muggle lives as well as the loss of sixteen of our own number, and I too wish to remind you all of their loss too. Unfortunately, while such a thing is tragic, and something I wouldn't wish on Muggle nor wizard, it still happened." He shook his head. "To be frank, we are wasting time, my friends. This discussion is taking time and effort away from the true issues that plague our dwindling number. Liliford's tragic loss was always going to happen - maybe not in this fashion or on the day it happened, but it would happen, and by delaying it, we opened a wound on our own settlements. Liliford and Granford are important, that I do not deny, but what about Hogsmeade and Hogwarts? Godric's Hollow? Fairlane? The Burrows? All settlements of wizards and witches, families with children, and all plagued with problems because of the wound, this gaping hole."

He held up a pale hand, three fingers stuck in the air. "In Godric's Hollow this past month, a stray walker almost killed a ten-year-old boy playing in the snow with his sisters. In pursuing it, the scared townspeople used fire, and burned down some of their crops." He dropped one of the fingers down to his hand. "In Fairlane, the crops aren't growing at all - some are calling it a curse, some are saying bad luck, but I'm saying that it's an issue we must look into if we have the time... Which, as I said, we do not because of this discussion." He dropped a second finger, until it was only his index finger left. "And in The Burrows, population overflow is a problem. There are a few dozen refugees that are not of our kind living there, parents and relatives of Muggleborn witches and wizards. No other settlement wants them, the sad fact of it is. The Burrows and its dwindling supplies are all they have."

I fought to keep the scowl off my face. It was true that a few Muggles had been pulled into our sanctuaries by their magically-adept sons and daughters, and that Hogsmeade had unofficially refused to have them live there, and other places had followed. Something to work on with the disclosure bill, no doubt.

Selwyn continued to speak in silky tones, "With these issues and more facing us because of the supplies being gifted towards the Muggles, who are very capable of looking after themselves I should mention, I worry that one day, one day very soon, there'll be a cold winter's day when prestigious men and women like myself, or Mr Malfoy, or Miss Bones, or Harry Potter... would turn to truly horrifying, monstrous, acts for the sake of food. We'd become what threatens the world at present, only... We wouldn't be dead. We'd know what we were doing. And I don't want that." He paused to let that sink in. "Finally, I ask that we focus our resources and time on something else, something that we all seem to forget in talking about protecting the Muggles... The Dementors. We need Minister Robards's best people working on rounding those monsters up, not creating plans for ambassadors and economies with Muggles on the mere chance the bill would pass."

"One thing I can agree on," Hart boomed. "We get the Dementors back, and we have our jailers. We build a good prison, and people like you would have your home back, Selwyn."

Selwyn narrowed his eyes, but it was Harper that decided to speak, and he spoke like he always did, loud and unthinking.

"Oh piss on that," he spat. "We don't need to bloody deal with those things anytime soon, not as long as we have the Muggles to deal with."

"And how do you suggest we 'deal' with them, Harper?" Antioch Boot asked coldly.

"Let them sort themselves out," the other man said simply, his rough forehead twitching in excitement. "We all know where they're headed, innit? Let them die, I say."

I was starting to wish I had left him hanging off that tree. The Wizengamot reacted no better, and were seconds away from yelling at each other like schoolchildren. Ogden didn't stop it this from happening. No, it was Selwyn still standing at the front of the hall, who stopped a burst of outrage pouring out like a molten wave of dissent.

"All of you, _please_. Our fellow member misspoke, but I have long learnt how to speak his blunt language." He showed a little smile on his face, poisonous and false. "He's impatient, and while I would never agree with the sentiment and I do not truly wish for the Muggles to die out... I must remind you all that, once again, time is being wasted." The smile disappeared. "And that's all I have to say."

But while Selwyn had his friends had their own little speeches, arguments and assertions, to watch, it was the swing votes I concentrated on the most. Aquilla, Diggory, MacMillan, Smith, Cuffe and Zabini were vital, and I watched to see if they were nodding along at certain speeches or not. Their own speeches were worth a watch too.

"... and we should look to our Minister more than ever..." Amos Diggory was saying, the tenth minute in a spiel that showed that the man's colours were whatever the Ministry was sporting these days.

"And yet," Parkinson interjected smoothly. "The Minister himself did not deign to show up at today's meeting."

Amos went red in the face, and his scowl was large enough that it looked like his beard was hidden behind it and not the other way around. In the seat that should've been the Minister's, Senior Undersecretary Stark shuffled awkwardly.

"Thank you, Chair Diggory," Ogden said before a fight could start up. Amos nodded shortly and went back to his chair, that quick-trigger emotional reaction of his still showing on his face. "Chair MacMillan, if you please."

To my right, Adelle Zabini frowned as Angus MacMillan stood and strolled to the front of the hall. He was holding his hands in front of himself, ready to use them to punctuate his arguments. I cast a quick glance to Neville on my left, but I immediately regretted turning away as Angus started his speech, and by the time I got back to him, I felt like I had missed an entire conversation in the one powerful sweeping motion with his hands.

"Loss," he intoned. "Loss is something that has affected us all, and for too long. Our wars, both Voldemort's and the Dementor's Stigma, have turned loss into a daily event. Just last week, two of our best were lost on a routine mission to gather supplies. Hours later, we all learned of the lives lost in the loss of Liliford. Going back a few years to the war, with the loss of my brother and his family, the loss of my favourite cousin, the loss of my less-favoured cousins..." He shook his head dispassionately. "Isn't it all too much? When is it that we take a long look at what there is left and work towards preventing any further losses? I, hopefully, speak for more than just myself when I say that I just want my family intact. I just want to survive. I just want us all to _survive._"

He paused, and I held my breath for the rest. From that loss had bred a fear of the Muggles, a well-known one. MacMillan wanted the vote out of the way, and was scared enough to vote against the bill, but... Things had changed. So why hold my breath for what he had to say next? Because one sentence, right now, would tell me where his mind was in his "no more losses" assertion. Something I could use, an opportunity... or a declaration, in a tone that would brooker no argument or persuasion, that he had no intention of voting for the bill to pass.

But he surprised me. "I have nothing further to say," he said firmly, his hands adding a bit of force into it. By God he said a lot in that nothing: there was a chance for his vote. I watched him take his seat beside his close ally Smith. He deliberately avoided meeting anybody's - be it mine or Malfoy's - eyes.

Aquilla, Cuffe, Zabini and Smith all had condolences, and the rest of my side's votes had the same. They paved the way for me to go next. I'd watched most everyone speak, absorbed everything they had to say, and I knew what to say.

As I walked to the front of the room, my footsteps echoing off the floor, I thought about Sarah, and Liliford, and all the others in Granford that would be lost if I failed. I didn't do speeches well, but the key was to stand there and pretend, especially in front of the Wizengamot.

"I've done a lot of listening today," I said, keeping my voice as clear and strong as I could. "And thinking, as funny as that may sound. I know the fears that plague us all. Uncertainty, doubt, fear of loss..." I looked at MacMillan with that last one. "I've felt them all. Regardless, I need to share some uncomfortable truths with you all this afternoon. Selwyn talked about the fact that time was being wasted. That we'd be forced into desperation by the winters to come, when the supplies would run out and tensions would rise... I agree that time is being wasted, and that we should be focusing on what will keep us alive in the future, but I'm not just talking about the next winter or the next few years. No no, I'm talking about decades and centuries from now. When the wizarding world collapses in on itself. It's hypocritical of those among us who say we must focus on wizards first without considering the far future. Because this outbreak changed things. Less people in the world, including wizards. Look around you. There were, a little over five years ago, forty-nine members of the Wizengamot. There has been that number for centuries, since its inception. We had the people, we had the chairs, and it was all grand.

"But, let's think about how many names we've lost over the years." I pulled Selwyn's trick with the fingers, but I held up all five on my right hand for all to see, and just ticked them off and put them back up as I went. "The Marius family, the Lovelesses, the Gaunts - all lost to interbreeding. The Peverells, the McKinnons, the Rackharrows, all died out. Then there were those lost to the blood wars - the Lestranges, the Blacks, the Crouches, and so many more. Great families like the Weasleys or the Lovegoods lost their chairs to manipulation and politics. Foreign families make up more than a few of our number - Patils and MacMillans, Zabinis and Malfoys. Lots of names, lots of history. Now, imagine for a second two hundred years from now, or maybe a few hundred more. The world is still ravaged by everlasting undead and Dementors. The wizards are still insular, but... What will they say? The Harpers, lost to inbreeding, by the end only producing psychotic Squibs? The Longbottoms, killed off because of dissenting opinions? The Smiths, dead because, well, they just _died out_. But if all those names and more are dead, and the number of wizards dwindles slowly... I mean, the great wizarding dynasty we have now is because, somewhere along the way, there was foreign blood, foreigners or Muggleborns or Muggles themselves. That's how we live now, because of them, as much as we don't want to admit it.

"We need the Muggles, for our long term survival. And when I say _our_, I don't mean just wizards and witches. I mean the human race as a whole. That's it. We let this disclosure bill pass, we make sure Granford doesn't share the fate of Liliford, and our chances at long-term survival, beyond our grandchildren's grandchildren, is better. It's a chance for the world to be rebuilt, with as many people as possible. The good and the bad, the magical and the mundane. And we can't just not _try_ because it's hard or because we're scared of the Muggles... We can't give up at all."

Something kept my focus beyond the chair in front of me - Burke's - and to the rest of the Great Hall. I wasn't watching to see if there was nods of approval, looks of curiosity, or hostility. I knew the others would help out with that later, but now, I didn't want to see. I'm a Healer, that's all. I want to heal, and to save. Not later, now. Wizards and Muggles both.

That's all there was to it.

"Healer Potter brings up several concerns worth noting," a voice said.

I looked up and turned towards it. It was Malfoy. His smug face was gone, his look instead sharp and assessing.

"I have concerns about his concerns," he said. "Truly, we all do. I worry about our survival now, Healer Potter. I only have one thing to say to you, and that is that magic wills out. Every time." He looked away from me, stood from his chair, and spoke to the Chief Warlock on his throne directly. "I move to call for the vote on this issue in the next collective meeting of the Wizengamot."

"Seconded," Marco Bulstrode said.

"Thirded," Selwyn added.

Ogden nodded. "Your call for a vote is being considered, and will be given the appropriate serious thought it deserves." He waved his wand, blue sparks soared out, and me and Malfoy took our chairs again. "I call this summit meeting of the Wizengamot to an end. There was a lot discussed, and I hope you all consider all opinions, and not just your own, in this grave manner. The time and date of the next summit will be owled to you a few days from now, and it's likely it will be held on the coming weekend. If any of you wish to discuss the next meeting or show me yet another petition for the call of the vote, you are welcome to come and visit me in my office. Thank you, and have a good afternoon. Dismissed."

In the Ritual of Shaking Hands that followed, I felt my focus drifting away from everyone else. I took the compliments on my speech from Brown and Patil, and even from Aquilla, and I endured a hearty sneer from Harper as he bruised my little finger in his iron grip. MacMillan and Smith confirmed that they had gotten my dinner invitation, and we would meet at The Three Broomsticks for it tonight.

But Malfoy. Malfoy's behaviour had struck me.

"You think it's because of his wife?" Neville asked when he, Susan and I were all alone in the hall. "You said you thought he was trying to help you by telling you about Granford through her... If she got thrown into the spotlight for it, he could be harbouring some resentment."

"Maybe," I said. "But... Ogden once told me that silence says the most - by staying quiet, somebody won't draw attention to themselves, and questions won't be asked. Because if a good question is asked or an accusation is made, even if it's not true, people will be thinking to themselves, wondering. Malfoy was quiet, and maybe he was thinking the same, or maybe he was drawing our attention deliberately. I... don't quite know what to make of it."

Neville and Susan shared a look. "Are you going to do something about it?" Susan questioned.

"Yeah," I decided, unclipping my Wizengamot brooch and transfiguring my rocks back. "But it's not him I need to talk to."

..::..-.-..::..

Malfoy Manor's garden was infested by zombies again. Some were chained, and I expected that, but some weren't, wandering around off in the distance, trying to moan their way through the walls keeping them in. I walked the trail to the manor proper and desperately tried to not kill them all as I did, but abstained for two reasons. One, because it would advertise my presence in Malfoy's home while he wasn't around and cast suspicion on his wife, and two because I was not some sort of bizarre gardener, and I wasn't going to clean up his little game after him. I figured that he had the house elves release the zombies from his ever-full bag of tricks somewhere before he left for the day. When he returned, he'd walk up the path and take down the zombies as part of the game, possibly enacting out some kind of zombie-killing hero fantasy. Or something.

Astoria answered the door personally this time, and she didn't look shocked, just happy. "I saw you coming up the path," she said, folding her hands together in front of her. She was wearing a light blue blouse and a white skirt, her hair swept up in a ponytail and her smile infectious. "Hi Harry. The meeting just end? Shouldn't you be back in Granford?"

"Still got time, so I thought I would come by. Also, hey," I said, pulling out the books from my robe. "Brought some books for you. Solomon's, for one."

Her smile grew, and she ushered me inside. A familiar trip later and we found ourselves in her little clearing in the library maze, her secret reading place that had become our secret meeting place, in a way. It was my third trip to the little area, but it felt familiar, intimate and preserved, just for us. She sat on her usual chair with a purple cushion and I added a green one to mine, settling, kicking my feet up on the table and beginning to show her the books I brought.

We talked about them and other Healing stories for a while, and when things went quiet I said, "Congratulations."

"On what?"

"Your Wizengamot chair." I held up my hand. "Just a friend congratulating another friend, nothing else. But seriously, it's great."

"I know," she said, and she was smiling again, as excited as she had been before our first day running the Hospital Wing at Hogwarts all alone. "Draco told me and I - I can't believe it. He wants me out at lunches with him, he wants me in logistics meetings and... I get to _leave_, Harry." Her voice turned wistful. "I want to see Hogsmeade and Hogwarts again. I want to see what the new St Mungo's looks like..."

"And you'll be sitting in one meetings," I said. "Listening and watching as your side debates destroying the Muggles."

Her face clouded over, and her smile vanished. "Harry, I was born and raised into a family that doesn't care for the Muggles."

Sometimes I forgot that. I fought down every part of me that wanted to ruin the easygoing afternoon with politics talk. The niggling reminder of Malfoy's behaviour came to the forefront of my mind. Maybe it would take sitting in on a meeting for her to see what her husband and his friends were up to. Maybe she needed to walk around outside and get a feel for why we needed the Muggles. I could be there for that. And this wasn't about getting the vote, this was about her. We're friends again, and I don't want my friend being partially responsible for what would happen if the bill failed.

"I'll show you around the new St Mungo's," I offered. "Not much to see, but if you want to get some actual Healer work done, they'll be happy to let you in. Even after, we could go check up on the other settlements, do some house calls. A lot of people in need of the help." _Then I'll bring you to Granford_, I promised internally. _You have to see for yourself._

Astoria's dimples showed in full force as the smile returned to her lips. "I'd like that."

The sun was setting outside when I noticed how much time had gone by. The afternoon had gone by like the fuzzy feeling from ward-checking with Ellie at the Ogdens's cottage, but this time was spent with words crawling off of pages and Astoria, who laughed every now and then at nothing, just genuinely pleased with the changes to her lot in life as of late. We were deep into an argument about Dilys Derwent and her decision to become Hogwarts's Headmistress instead of finishing her book on bone-related spells when one of Astoria's house elves popped in and announced that Draco had just come through the gates.

"Shall I tell your husband to expect Healer Potter for dinner, my lady?" the elf asked, a strange mixture of earnestness and sarcasm in his voice.

I stood up from my chair. "No, no. He's going to be busy with the zombies out in the yard, so we have time to hide how long I was here."

Astoria nodded, dismissing the elf with a wave of her hand. The creature bowed low and disapparated. "Thank you for the books and the company." she said honestly. "Now let's go watch you get an argument with my husband."

"I won't start anything if he doesn't."

Of course, when we arrived in the foyer and took up positions by the door, Draco swaggered in, his finely-made black and green robes splattered and speckled with blood.

And he seemed completely unconcerned about it, or the fact there was part of an intestine settled in his hair.

I pointed to it. "You've got guts on you."

"One came up behind me," he said, flicking the organ out of his hair with a swish of his wand. "What are you doing here now, Potter?"

"He was just leaving," Astoria said flatly, a composed mask of indifference staring up at mine. "He was waiting for you for whatever reason, but I told him to leave -"

"And I was," I said. "Malfoy, until the next meeting."

"What is it that you wanted, then?" Malfoy asked. "Might as well get it out, lest you decide you're welcome to visit again."

"I wanted to make sure you got Harper's message," I replied stonily. "The contents would be considered good advice to someone like you, Malfoy."

"Ahh. Yes." He smirked. "My associates received the message as well, and have no reply. We believe you know our next move." He tipped his head to Astoria, who averted his gaze. "My wife's appointment will be announced on Sunday, when the next meeting will be called, and she'll have her seat by the end of the day. Joyous news. About time we broke that evenstall, don't you think?"

"Yeah sure. It all seems to be working out."

"Doesn't it? How are the Muggles doing? Keeping a good eye on them?"

I thought about Aaron Fortess, who might just yet be corrupted by people like Malfoy. I still didn't know for sure, but I was standing in front of someone who could know. And there he was, smirking at me.

I didn't deign to reply to the taunt. "Anyway, I just wanted to be sure you got the message before I went back." I caught Astoria's gaze off the floor and towards mine. I tried to convey a lot of things with twitching eyebrows, telling her I would be back sometime soon, and that I would live up to my promise to help her out with reintegrating back into the wider world. "Congratulations on your appointment, Mrs Malfoy," I said formally, tipping my head. "All the best wishes to you both."

"And Potter?" Malfoy said to my retreating back. "Don't come back."

The trail back to the gates was littered with corpses. I tried hard to ignore them all, as well as that sinking feeling that Draco Malfoy was hiding something from me, and something big. Worst of all, I had no idea what, and while I had ways of getting what I'd need from him, with Astoria and the life debt, there was something in the air, a vague feeling of foreboding on the horizon...

Just great.

..::..-.-..::..

_To Be Continued in Chapter Five: Integration..._

..::..-.-..::..

Post-Chapter Notes:

_- Next Chapter Tease ::_ After a bit of politicking back in the wizarding world, Harry and friends go on a supply run with the Muggles, and zombies and character development ensue. Yes zombies. Promise. One week.

_- Wizengamot Scorecard ::_ No changes, but here just to refresh. As of the end of this chapter:

- _Pro-Disclosure_ :: Harry, Neville, Susan, Antioch Boot, Brown, Patil, Hart.

- _Anti-Disclosure_ :: Malfoy, Parkinson, Bulstrode, Selwyn, Gale, Harper, Burke.

- _Swing Votes_ :: MacMillan, Smith, Diggory, Zabini, Aquilla, Cuffe.

- _Former Members ::_ Bill Weasley (Resigned).

- _Member Count ::_ Twenty.

- _Status ::_ Evenstalled.

- _Pending Members _:: Astoria Malfoy (Greengrass seat).

Thanks for reading!

..::..-.-..::..


	5. Chapter Five: Integration

_Standard Disclaimer_ :: All things Harry Potter belong to JK Rowling and affiliates. This fanfiction is a non-profit venture written for the enjoyment of myself and my readers.

_Dedication :: _To Vira, Seratin, Lutris, Zeitgeist and my friends from DLP, for putting up with my insanity, for reading early drafts, and just being there. Also, to all those who reviewed/favourited/alerted me or my story here on , cheers. Props to DLP for the feedback, too - anyone reading this who hasn't devoured their C2 on this very site must do so now. It's the first community on the list, for a damn good reason.

_Preface :: _This chapter and the previous were once one chapter, and it might show in various spots - the last chapter was more political, this one more action-y. Probably no complaints, and it's all working towards what I like to call the moment I stop introducing plot elements and just put the ones I have in a blender.

_Previously :: _Harry was called away from Granford, after a few days with no progress, by Chief Warlock Ogden, to ensure the safety of his family once more - a new threat dropped by the purebloods indicated that Ogden would have to give Astoria Malfoy a seat on the Wizengamot to break the evenstall, and Harry soon found out the threats were real. However, he moved on to bigger and better things after threatening Harper, the one threatening the Ogdens, and a speech-ridden Wizengamot meeting followed. Harry was earnest if a bit overdramatic, Selwyn was slimy and not entirely untruthful, and Angus MacMillan's willingness to not decide his position might yet be advantageous. Draco Malfoy was unusually quiet to Harry's ears, and a visit to Malfoy Manor occurred, leaving Harry closer to Astoria and feeling distinctly antagonised by Malfoy...

..::..-.-..::..

_Chapter Five of Sixteen: Integration_

..::..-.-..::..

The encounter with Malfoy replayed over and over in my mind more than it should've, but I knew it was best to put it past me.

_I mean, come on_, I told myself, _it's just Malfoy. Bigger issues._

I trudged through the damp underbush and emerged out onto short-cut grass, with five houses sitting before me. The houses of The Burrows were aptly named in their resemblance to the long lost Weasley homestead, looking like bits of jigsaw puzzles from completely different boxes stuck together. Seeing a flat little white house with its extensions raising it as high as Hogwarts was about the norm for this place, though the five I approached weren't quite as ostentatious; just ramshackle, arranged in a circular pod sitting on the hill above the rest of the town. Bill's house was here, in the middle.

Bill's house wasn't the largest, or the prettiest, or had anything that would signify it as belonging to the town's chief; it was a lot like the old Burrow more than anything else, with additional rooms hanging off the top of the house, giving it a shoe-like shape. Bill, Fleur, their two kids, Andromeda and Teddy lived there, and always had room for anybody who needed it for the night. George and Ginny ran their own refugee households to the immediate left and right of Bill's, and the other two houses sprang up around two of the other families who founded the place - the Stebbinses and the Mayers.

The Burrows began with just these five houses a year ago. See, nearly a thousand refugees had been created in the outbreak, houses mostly lost to zombies or the flames that were the last resort measures of panicked civilians. While a lot of wizards and witches converged around Hogsmeade and Hogwarts, there were still groups that didn't want to abandon their own plots of land. The folks at Godric's Hollow, for example, locked themselves indoors and waited for the Aurors to kill all the zombies from the Muggle side of town. Over at Fairlane, the purebloods that populated the area were most assuredly not going to leave their homes, so made themselves a higher class of community a cut above the rest. Unfortunately, Hogsmeade becoming a streamlined and secure village for Ministry personnel meant that the rest had to go _somewhere_, and Bill had the idea to create The Burrows.

The wizarding families that lived in the area - the surviving ones that was - cleared the zombies out of Ottery St Market Square, threw up some wards and declared it a haven, for both wizards and their Muggle relatives refused by the other communities. The Burrows's appeal came in the working class and trade that had been created, and the prime location of being isolated countryside without being in the Scottish highlands and thus, not as cold all year round. Crops flourished at The Burrows, but even that wasn't enough for the hungry mouths to feed. But Bill, George, Ginny and many others tried hard anyway, because now was the time to at least _try_, to at least be the better humans while those at Fairlane filled their stomachs.

As far as I was concerned, they had succeeded.

"Harry," Bill greeted as I got closer. He was standing in front of his house, and looked like he had been waiting for a bit. I checked my watch and frowned; my afternoon with Astoria and the encounter with Malfoy had gone longer than I thought. The sun was setting, and Bill and I had to dinner plans with Wizengamot members MacMillan and Smith.

"Thanks for agreeing to this," I told him, and we shook hands. When we released, Bill hooked a thumb over his shoulder, but I stopped him from continuing with, "I, um, yeah..."

"It's okay," he said understandably. "Fleur and Andromeda have the kids out back, but if you don't want to see them..." He shook his head, strands of long red hair falling in his face. "We're almost late, anyway, and still have a bit of a walk ahead of us. Come on."

We walked back down the trail I came, and I didn't look back; there were bigger things to deal with at the moment, and there would be time for my godson after they were out of the way. Bill was silent as we headed back through the small copse of trees ringing the area, and didn't speak until we had crossed the ward boundary and apparated to Hogsmeade.

"Thanks again," I said in the cold air, our steps taking us towards The Three Broomsticks, the windows alight with inner illumination and activity.

"Happy to help, Harry. Are things going well at your end? How was the meeting?"

"As could be expected, really. We talked, they talked, I don't think we went anywhere." I sighed tiredly; I didn't think I'd slept at all for more than a day, not really. My night staying up to watch the wards at the Ogdens, and the meeting, were catching up to me. "Things in Granford are going well too. If we were going into a more modern city instead of this town, I'd imagine Terry and Ernie would have more problems. _Eklectricky_ and all."

Bill chortled. "And Ron?"

"As well as we could hope, but that's not saying much." I sighed again, this one tinged with sadness. "He's sullen, doesn't talk much and hasn't made a single crack in the past week, but... The work keeps him busy, there's no alcohol to drown himself in, and he's just grieving, so... He just needs time."

"Then we'll give it to him. As much as he needs."

"Yeah. So how's the family?"

And off we continued down High Street, discussing the lighter side of events at The Burrows, in that tiny bubble Bill tried to keep for his kids away from all the pain and death of this new world. Teddy Lupin was in that bubble too, and although I hadn't seen him much lately, I would still do anything to keep that bubble safe for him and Bill's and all other children... Well, I was already doing all sorts of things for their sake.

"George is still stepping up," Bill said as we passed by Honeydukes on our way to the Three Broomsticks. "They all love him, especially the Muggles. He makes them laugh and loosens them up, and it's easy to forget for a second that we might yet starve in the winter..." His eyes went dull. "I know it's horrible, but Liliford's loss might mean more food, and... I'm disgusted to even think that."

Problem with that was that Liliford's food would go to the others first. Hogsmeade and Hogwarts, Godric's Hollow, Fairlane... All had precedent over The Burrows out of sheer monetary worth and influence. And that Bill allowed Muggle family members of wizards to live with them meant he was always going to be screwed over by bloated bigotry and fearmongering of the Muggles. Disgusting, but that's how things were before, and that's how things remained despite the outbreak; wizards were obstinate that way.

"And Ginny?" I asked to get away from the topic, jumping from one frying pan of awkwardness into another.

"She's doing... well," Bill said carefully. "Happy as is considering, is just as helpful in morale as George is, and takes care of Teddy the most when Andromeda has her sick days. She thinks it'll be pretty soon Teddy will be wanting to ask questions about Remus and Tonks, and Ginny hopes you'll be there to answer."

"One day," I promised. "Soon. I'm long overdue to see my godson... and my ex-girlfriend, I suppose."

The Three Broomsticks welcomed us with a relieving hug of warmth from the cold outside, the smell of woodsmoke and mead filling my nostrils, the sounds of happy patrons, joking and laughing like it were any other night, ringing in my ears. It was a familiar scene that took me back to my every visit; the Three Broomsticks was one of those places with memory, taking in all those who visited once and reminding them again and again why to come back, without any magic involved. MacMillan and Smith would be waiting in one of the back rooms, for private dining purposes, and we didn't want to keep them.

We received a share of attention as we entered: curious looks, mutterings and whisperings, nods of greeting and averted eyes. One of my old classmates, whose name I couldn't remember for the life of me, waved cheerily from behind the bar.

And then, as luck would fucking have it, I spotted a flash of platinum-blood hair in a corner booth.

I nudged Bill with my elbow. "Malfoy and Gale, one o'clock."

His eyes followed the direction and spotted the booth, where the two men had been talking in a low, muted (Maybe literally), conversation. I say 'had been' because our presence had signalled their attentions, and both were looking up towards us, one looking bored and indifferent and the other trying to keep his face calm. Both me and Bill and Malfoy and Gale hesitated a moment. I looked to the door leading out to the back room. Then back at the corner booth.

What happened earlier with Malfoy flickered in my mind.

And my feet started walking of their own accord, and I greeted him with an almost warm, "How's my favourite patient doing this evening?"

He snorted. "I'm in need a potion to get rid of _you_."

"You did take those two I gave you, right? I don't mean to a pushy Healer, but if you refuse to keep yourself in good health, I may have to intervene."

"Potter, you're a worse Healer than you are a Wizengamot member, so please, stop badgering me and leave me to my dinner."

"If that's how it's going to be..." I shrugged, turned away from him, and nodded to Gale. "Grey, we must meet again soon. Lunch in a few days, before the meeting? I think I have some more points to go over with you about the bill."

Gale paled, his eyes darting back from me to Malfoy and back again. Malfoy, on the other hand, looked supremely unconcerned, but definitely wouldn't meet my eyes. My job done, I smiled at them both and walked back to Bill, standing next to the bar and shaking his head as I leaned on it casually.

"You provoked them."

I had, and it had felt good - Malfoy had done the same to me earlier, after all. "Did I ever tell you my plan for Gale?"

"No."

I cast a look back at the booth before leaning in to Bill and saying, "Astoria told me his history back at Hogwarts. He's the youngest member on the Wizengamot, you know, but before that he was just a kid in Slytherin who had been raised by Muggles. When Voldemort took over the Ministry and bloodlines were checked, it turned out Gale was the first wizard in a family line thought to have gone full Squib about a century back. He was welcomed back with open arms, and Malfoy snapped him up under his wing and got his seat back when the purebloods needed it. Gray Gale is sycophantic to Malfoy because he owes him for his success... But he was raised by Muggles. He didn't forsake his parents; he still loved them. If I was going to get his vote, I'd use that, appeal to his love of Muggles despite it all, and get him to vote for our side."

"I'm sensing a but coming..."

"_But_, he won't want to meet with me anytime soon. Malfoy and his scarier friends have Gale's loyalty, and his fear. So what I'm going to do is approach him, every time. Just look like I'm in regular contact. Maybe I'll wear him down into actually sitting down with me, maybe not. What I'm thinking is that if someone like Selwyn hears that Gale is in communication with the enemy, Gale will run to me for protection. Either way, I'll have his vote. Might come in handy if one of the swing votes doesn't come my way, like Cuffe."

Bill appeared to consider it. "Could work. Could backfire."

"Everything could, but I think the important thing is to show confidence." I pushed myself off the bar and gestured to the barman - he walked towards the back room, and we began to follow. I needed to be back in Granford later tonight, but for now, MacMillan and Smith were my priority. I put Malfoy, and Gale, out of mind, and went off to have dinner.

..::..-.-..::..

The next morning was my first supply run with the Muggles, and the whole process was spectacularly different and harder to organise than any of ours. Kingsley's team was small, each holding the same role: watch at first, count the walking dead, go in, deal with the zombies, grab supplies, go home. Fortess had very detailed plans; big supply runs like their one to Outer London had taken a week of planning. Something like this needed a few less days, but not many. Every option, every possible screw up, had to be considered. The groups were much larger, and he had to compensate. People were assigned roles: those fast on their feet would be scouts, those who didn't mind climbing to high places would be spotters, and there were sharpshooters and close-range fighters and heavy lifters, for all occasions. People who Fortess knew had issues with other people weren't paired together. And eager volunteers who hadn't been tested out in the field yet were put together with experienced veterans, to see if their mettle was enough to be regular supply scavengers. Terry volunteered us, I found out the night before, in the name of integration. I couldn't quite argue against that, and didn't.

I'd returned from the wizarding world after my dinner with MacMillan, and things had been all quiet on the Granford front. I told my friends all my various misadventures with Wizengamot politics - Cuffe, the Ogdens, the meeting, Gale, dinner with MacMillan and Smith - only leaving out my encounter with Astoria. I knew that Neville didn't trust Astoria because Susan didn't trust her, so I decided to keep that to myself. I told Ron, though, because as surprising as it sounded, Ron actually sorta got along with Astoria back in Hogwarts too, and it's not like he was going to tell anybody now.

We left Granford at around seven a.m., our group walking towards the truck depot just out of town and past the ward boundary, while another truck had been sent ahead from Granford itself to start the bigger targets.

"We've got a few supermarkets to do," Stanthorpe said as we walked the trail. There were only a dozen of us in this group. Wizards among us were me, Ron, Ernie, Terry and Lucas Meadowes - Ministry spy on Malfoy's payroll - while Stanthorpe, Warren and Juliet made up part of the Muggle group. "After that, we're going to swing by the old meat-packing plant up a ways. Have to go check on Maple and his group."

"Maple?" said Ernie, carrying a particularly large bag full of useful tools on his shoulders - his role for the day: pack mule.

"Old warhorse who had a disagreement with Fortess near the start. Didn't want to cause any trouble, so he left, and a few friends went with. Took his daughter too, even though she didn't want to go, but that's just how it went." Stanthorpe frowned momentarily, but cleared it off his face soon after. "He holed up in a plant and made it into his own little fortress, and he still helps us out, using the place's fridges to keep a bunch of supplies on ice for us, the stuff his group picks up every now and then. We give him so petrol if we can spare it in exchange, but mostly the old fart helps us out because he cares." He chuckled. "Not that we tell _him _that, of course."

"Does Fortess kick a lot of people out?" I asked curiously.

"He won't allow trouble, especially from outsiders," Juliet replied. She hunched her shoulders together to keep in the warmth of her thick brown jacket, her rifle near frozen in her hands. "Some people can't be coddled, especially in these circumstances."

Stanthorpe winced, but it didn't look like he disagreed. "Some minor offenders get sent to Tent Bridge - and there's no getting off that bridge - but the others are kicked out, yeah. Some try to sneak back in, some just camp out and steal from our farms and the depot... Second strike, and, well..."

Juliet fingered the trigger of her rifle.

"We had this one idiot who tried to lead a pack of zombies into town," Warren grunted. "Buggers were too busy eating him to notice our group lining up their shots."

Juliet smirked this time, and Terry looked at her admiringly. He was dressed all in black and happy to be tagging along, though a bit put-out that he hadn't been given a pistol for the occasion. Guns were a valuable weapon, and while Granford had enough to justify converting one of their buildings into an armoury, they didn't have one for every person, and handing somebody they barely knew a gun wasn't going to happen unless that person was vetoed and thoroughly trusted. So Terry didn't get one, neither did Ron or Ernie, the former perfectly content with his cricket bat.

I got one. It was some little six-shooting revolver thing, and no, I don't really intend to use it unless I have to. It stayed in my jacket pocket for now, while the real weapon, the one strapped to my arm, was a more comfortable weight to carry and within easier reach for use, even in the holster.

"Remember," one of the Muggles said. It was Leeson, a burly man wearing an especially fine, long brown coat. "The head." He grinned at me in a familiar way, sharing some kind of joke I didn't get.

I briefly considered that Su Li had created an inside joke with somebody I didn't know while she walking around impersonating me. That, or Leeson was just strange. Either or.

The day passed quickly. A lot of it was spent in the back of trucks, jostling about as the driver navigated roads littered with abandoned cars and corpses and other naturally occurring apocalypse obstructions. Sometimes we talked, sometimes we didn't - there wasn't much to say, even if we could be heard over the buckling, creaking and groaning truck. It was the same on the supply runs themselves - if the opportunity was there, talking did occur. Some people told dirty jokes or swapped stories to lighten the mood, but I spent the time fishing for information on the big Muggle players.

"I never really wanted kids," Stanthorpe said, moments after sticking a bowie knife in the eye of a zombified ten-year-old. "Or a wife, or anything so normal. Just knew from a young age I wasn't going to glow with _that _flow, so just kinda went on my own, you know? At a certain point you make a decision to go a certain way, to just do your own thing, and I've stuck by mine."

"That didn't really answer my question," I said, shoving a box of vitamin supplements in my bag.

Stanthorpe shrugged and wiped the knife off on his trousers. "Oh right. Well, the right of it is that I'm much the same about leadership. I never really wanted to be in charge, and that's why I'm not. I don't like to be too responsible, and there are others much better at it than me, so no reason to."

"Just going with your 'flow'?"

"No other way to do it."

I liked Stanthorpe. He was a good mix of easygoing and friendly, calm and fair, and strong and clear-headed. I didn't believe for a second that he wouldn't be a good leader if he tried, though I would have to admit that I was much the same a long time ago, but things had happened and brought it out. I still would always have doubts, but I wouldn't fight it anymore.

I left him to dispose of the zombie's body and headed out into the pharmacy proper, where the rest of our group was just finishing up, sorting out the supplies Fortess's people had left for our truck to carry so they could head on to the next destination. It was late afternoon by now, and this pharmacy was our third stop. The first had been a small supermarket. Fortess's group before us had attracted the zombies to the area with loud noises, killed them all and piled them into a makeshift bonfire. When we arrived they were crisping heartily, and our group had no encounters with the undead that time. The second stop was a shopping arcade that we raided alone while Fortess's people searched the market on the other side of the town. All went well there, too.

Ron was carrying two bags loaded down with cutlery when I returned to the pharmacy, and shot me a quick nod of acknowledgement before heading back to the truck. Terry was already busy in his job as a spotter, sitting in a tree across the street, and that left only Ernie of my friends still in the pharmacy, sweeping shelves of deodorant cans into a canvas bag.

"You do know what you're getting, right?" I asked, making sure this wasn't another 'Ron getting electric shavers for Hogwarts' situation.

"It was on the list," Ernie replied, zipping his bag up. "All done."

We headed out of the store and to the street outside, where men and women were shuffling back and forth, trading supplies and checking off their little lists. Were Fortess present, the process would be much more simpler and dignified, but things now were a bit more chaotic, people in a rush to meet Juliet's deadline without losing any supplies along the way and causing a kerfuffle. It was a tightly-wound operation, and Ernie and I, our jobs simple as could be today, just watched them work.

"So you never did tell me how your dinner with my father went," Ernie said, as Leeson and Meadowes argued over the placement of tinned peaches in the truck.

"Not much to tell," I said with a shrug. "It was what I needed it to be - a non-political affair. Your father's more than a little angry that you're here with me instead of well, not."

Ernie smiled sadly. "My father's headstrong, I have to say. The argument we had was... loud. He definitely didn't want me here."

"It didn't show until around the middle of the lunch," I said. "At first we just talked about food, then traded some stories, some about Voldemort, some about my old mentor Hunt. He was holding himself back, and so was I. Smith and Bill helped in that regard, I think, but in the end, I just gotta hope he understands that you volunteered, that I need you and eventually him. Nothing else to do but that."

"If I can convince him I'm fine and the Muggles aren't as bad as he thinks, it could help."

I smiled at him. "I'd like that. Might need your help on that soon, 'cause when the evenstall breaks..."

"Potter, MacMillan, we are goin'!" Warren snapped from his truck. "Get your arses movin', now!"

As we began to head back, Leeson wandered over to us, nodding, before heading towards one of the other Muggles coming out of the store. She was one of the ones we met the first night back in London, had dark hair and carried an old pistol with her, a family heirloom that had been nicknamed The Preacher. Leeson greeted her warmly, with, "How goes it? I got six walkers earlier. You?"

The woman nodded stonily. "The Preacher showed nine of them the righteous path... of bullets in the brain." Her facade cracked, she laughed, and pulled the old, silver, gun from the holster on her hip. "Stupid thing stopped working."

Leeson chuckled. "Guess it knows it was being mocked."

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up." She laughed herself, fiddling with the pistol some.

"Maybe you should clean it more."

A shadow fell over her face as she walked out underneath the overhanging roof. "Oh keep laughing, I'll -"

Then she screamed. I caught a glimpse of a pale figure, a flash of teeth, and a torrent of blood splashing out of the nape of her neck and onto Leeson's chest. I raised my wrist and flicked my wand in my hand, but immediately pushed it back into the holster, my other hand reaching into my pocket for the gun as the zombie bit in, harder and harder, and The Preacher clattered to the ground with the zombie and its meal down beside it. The zombie was barely more than flesh and bone, and had both legs missing from the thigh down, and by the looks of things, they'd been chewed off, and roughly. Bullets sailed through the air, one after another with an echoing rapport, and I ducked and dodged, as one of them went wide and hit the wall right beside me. One - the seventh - struck the side of the zombie just as its meal died. The zombie's head moved away from the woman's mauled neck, raised almost curiously, and turned in the direction of the shooter - Lucas Meadowes, by the trucks.

The zombie was halfway crawling off the woman's body when Ron's cricket bat caught it in the face. Quick-thinking, and quick-hitting, killed the zombie for good, and he used a similar treatment on the woman before she could reanimate.

Leeson gaped at the corpse of his friend, then back at Ron and the rest of us. "_Fuck _me sideways," he muttered.

Ron frowned as he inspected a crack on his bat, and nobody said anything else.

Warren came over then, kicked both the corpses with his feet, and shook his head. "Right, it happens. We need to get goin." He growled when nobody started to move. "Come on!"

Before he left, however, he picked up the woman's discarded gun, and pocketed it.

No resource had to be wasted, after all.

In the road trip that followed, I tried to push that incident out of my mind, but Leeson and the others were taking it hard. Fortess's plans couldn't account for everything, and the world always saw fit to remind people of that. It just happened. I changed my focus back to the higher ups.

I asked Stanthorpe about Warren after we found our fourth target, a supply truck depot, and scavenged what we could. The balding man himself was the other of Fortess's two 'deputies', as it were, and had pumped a wave of bullets from his shotgun into a bunch of zombies on every occasion he had the chance to today. I'd of course seen my fair share of those happy to kill the undead in high numbers like that, but Warren went at it like they'd all personally wronged him. Which, if he had the story, would be true.

"Warren? His story's the same as everyone else's," Stanthorpe replied, him taking most of the weight of the crate we were carrying to the truck. "Of course, if you asked, he'd say nothing bad ever happened to him." He frowned. "Which, in a technical sort-of way, is right."

"So what _did_ happen?" I asked.

"Warren's ex-military, and lived out in Manchester when it all went to hell, and he was right in the middle of it. Wasn't pretty, and I'd bet that's why he keeps losing his hair." Stanthorpe gave me an amused grin as I choked back a laugh, but the grin faded into something more resigned and sad as he continued, "Nothing bad ever happened to _him_. Specifically. Just his brother, his sister and her kid, his mother... his wife, his eldest son, his youngest son, his only daughter..."

"Merlin," I breathed out, immediately covering it with a louder, "Jesus Christ."

Stanthorpe didn't notice. We continued to carry the crate in silence, and when we dropped it off on the flatbed of a truck, he looked at me frankly. "I know who you're going to ask about next, and while I don't mind your curiosity, _she _will. Jules is not as friendly as me, and won't take kindly to questions or badgering."

"And yet you call her Jules, not Juliet."

"I like to live life on the edge." He leaned in close. "But Juliet O'Flynn is a hard girl, and trying to figure her out for whatever reason is just... well, not that smart."

Juliet herself walked by then, and for a second I wondered if she'd heard the conversation.

Stanthorpe clapped me on the shoulder. "Come on, two more stops and then it's off to Maple's. We'll be back by midday."

The sun was fully set by the time we left the depot, to continue our neverending trip around rural English countryside. I think we might've crossed into Wales at one point, but either way, we covered what felt like a lot of ground but really wasn't. Such trips were a weekly occurrence for nearly a whole year for the folk of Granford, and they had raided more supermarkets than we ever had. The whole island should be picked clean already, really, but there's always another fish out in the sea filled with zombies and canned goods. Luckily, we had no encounters with the Dementors or their mist; Fortess's scouts had picked out the places to avoid in advance.

Only one truck took the detour to Maple's meat-packing plant. Fortess and Warren were pushing to get back to Granford, while Juliet was in charge of our truck, taking the twisting road to the abandoned plant turned holdfast.

The truck stopped roughly five kilometres out, and after communicating with the driver, Juliet said to us, "Maple set up spike traps on the road, so we continue on foot."

"On foot into the spike traps with the trapping and the spikes?" Terry asked. "I'm in."

"Give us a few hours at the most," Juliet told Meadowes, who was being left behind to guard the truck with the driver. "If you don't hear from us, just go. Those supplies are what's important."

"I object to that," Stanthorpe murmured good-naturedly.

As we geared up to go out, I passed by Meadowes and offered him a brief nod of acknowledgement.

"Don't yourself killed," he said. "As hard as that may sound."

I smiled blandly at him. "Funny, I remember earlier at the store when you somehow fired seven bullets from a gun that looks like it only holds six. Almost like... magic."

"Like you're not being suspicious by asking so many damn questions?" he retorted. "Nobody was watching me, Potter, because they know me, and trust me. You're bringing way too much attention to yourself by asking so many questions."

"I'm just the nervous kid asking questions," I said. "_You're_ just a terrible shot."

He scowled, I tipped my head again, and left him behind to go with the others.

It was very dark outside, the road bordered by overhanging trees that wouldn't let any starlight through. We walked by the lights of our torches, our bodies weighed down by fatigue but still walking, propelled forward by the meagre, cold, dinner of tinned soup and the thought of a warm bed somewhere. I wasn't at my sharpest either, and the night's wind pushed and pulled me off the path, the chill settling into my bones only slightly repelled by my personal Warming Charm. The day and the night had been tiring work, and while I hadn't done any zombie-killing, there was still a sense of exhaustion that came from just being awake and active and every muscle pounding, from lifting things to walking to sitting down, cramped in the back of a truck. Some of the others had napped on the road, but I hadn't.

"God I hope he's in a good mood," said Stanthorpe, readjusting his rifle's strap. "This will go a lot easier if he's had his tea this morning."

Terry looked confused. "What will go easier?"

"Getting him to help us out, 'course. While we do make sure to drop things off to the old bugger every now and then, this personal visit is to get him to go check on Liliford for us."

They still didn't know, of course. "I heard we haven't heard from them in a bit," I said, frowning. "That's not a good sign, is it?"

"Nearly a fortnight and no, it's not. Usually we keep in contact with them via radio, but Fortess and Blake had a disagreement over something a while back, and we keep communication to necessary things. We run our own towns, as much as I wished we were worked together more."

I had an idea why Aaron Fortess and Jackson Blake, Liliford's leader, had a falling out. It started with the pureblood agenda supplying Liliford with a better run of crops. It would involve Fortess hearing about Blake's good fortune and asking for a little extra help for the much more in-need town, Granford. It would devolve into paranoia and mistrust. It would turn a somewhat friendly but distant communication into complete silence, and if the people of Granford were told to avoid the people of or places around Liliford, they wouldn't confirm what we had known for over a week: Liliford was mist, nothing more.

"But now we haven't heard from them at all," Stanthorpe continued, "and since Fortess doesn't want to send any of our people to go check, he wants us to get Maple's group, much smaller and not on poor terms with Liliford, to volunteer. He's calling in a favour and adding in a bit of extra petrol we have on hand as incentive. We'll get Maple's people to do the deed."

_And they'll be eaten by Dementors_, I thought.

But as the trail continued, our group avoiding little zombie traps and clearing out the occupied ones, it became apparent that Maple's misfortune might've started early, and the Dementors had nothing to do with it.

Juliet said something about it first. "It's too quiet." Up ahead there was a street light sitting on the side of the road, the light itself out but something square-shaped attached to it. Juliet flashed her torch light towards it, and the light caught what looked a mirror, affixed to an angle pointing high above the trees in the direction we were headed. "That's our signal to them," she said. "So where's theirs?"

All nine of us stood underneath the street light, waiting, for almost ten minutes.

"We need to get out of here, now," Juliet declared, and Leeson and another Muggle cocked their rifles and nodded in agreement. "No signal."

"They could be out," Ernie offered.

"They'd have to leave somebody behind," Ron said quietly. "A sentry."

"He's right, Maple always has his daughter watching the lights," Juliet said.

Stanthorpe made a sound of protest. "Just because there's no signal doesn't mean anything bad. Not yet. There are a thousand reasons that they couldn't reply to us right now, and not all involve the undead."

Juliet scowled at him. "And what do you suggest?"

"Okay, if there are zombies, which I doubt, it's possible they've holed up in one of their freezers - the defunct ones that could withstand a good zombie attack. They might not have a radio with them, or... Anything. Either way, we have to go see."

"And if they're all dead?"

"Then we kill them _again_!" Stanthorpe snapped. "But since we don't know, we can't just abandon them like this. Maple's a friend of ours, and we need his help, and -" He swallowed deeply. "I'll go alone if that's what you want."

"Not a chance," I said, coming up beside him. "We're in too. He can lead us."

Terry and Ernie nodded in agreement, and after an appealing look from Stanthorpe, Leeson did the same.

Juliet did not look particularly happy about that. "Fine," she relented. "This is what's going to happen. We're going to keep walking up the road. We're going to look at the plant. If we see zombies, I'm leaving. If you want to go in and check for survivors, you're free to."

Stanthorpe didn't particularly look happy either, but nodded briskly. "Then we go, now."

We jogged the road for a while, the uncertainty of what was coming sending an adrenaline rush through my head. The whole day had been planned, with every variable figured out in advance and the solitary slip up courtesy of a legless zombie. This was into the unknown, and while I was worried, the Muggles looked even more scared. Stanthorpe and Juliet led the pack, his look determined and hers resigned.

After running down a particularly steep hill, our group made it to the end of the road, the meat-packing plant waiting for us. It was in a forested clearing, a drab brown monstrosity illuminated by the moonlight, falling apart at the seams and not exactly painting the picture of a perfect fort against zombies. It took up a lot of space, one giant building, several smaller outlying buildings, as well a depot housing several trucks off to one side making up what I could see in the dark. Stanthorpe's gaze went towards the windows on the second floor of the plant, all dim.

"Lights aren't on," he said quietly. "I was afraid of that."

Juliet was already scanning the area with a pair of night-vision binoculars. "I don't see anything, but the doors are barred shut. If there's any zombies -"

A wind picked up, blowing from the plant and to us quickly and sharply. A second gale soon followed, and it carried with it a mournful moaning.

Stanthorpe closed his eyes and let out a soft, "Fuck."

"There's still a chance," I told him determinedly. "Like you said, the freezers. They use them to hold food for the towns."

"A few of them, but the others on the first floor are kept off." He shook his head. "There was one, I know there was, where they said they'd hide out in case of an attack... I've only been here once, and..."

"There are zombies here," Juliet said, "and I'm leaving. Now. Maple and his crew are all dead, or good enough."

"Maple's group was fourteen, so that's fourteen of them in there," Leeson murmured. "We have guns, and if we draw them out somehow -"

Juliet glared at him. "No, I said."

"They could still have supplies, food and petrol, we'll need," I implored. "And survivors. Stanthorpe, do you remember where their hideout was?"

"I do," he said, looking at Juliet. "I do. I know where they'd be."

"I know where they'd be - walking around as fucking zombies!"

"They smelled us with the winds," said Leeson. "They could be heading to the front door to go toward the smell."

"So we go around one of the side doors, right." Stanthorpe nodded. "The freezers are closer from there, and if we..."

I leaned in close as he outlined a plan, made up on the fly and under the pressure of Juliet's best murderous gaze. The plan involved distraction, shooters waiting out the front doors, the freezers, and just plain luck. Juliet and two of the others didn't look too happy with it, but Leeson and the four of us were nodding along, letting Stanthorpe do his thing. Under pressure, he stepped up, and I was glad for that.

While Ron and Ernie would be coming along, Terry had been left behind with Juliet and the shotgun-toting Muggle on the hill, taking the former's night-vision binoculars and playing spotter for the zombies that would come out the doors after Leeson, Ernie and another man whose name I had forgotten would let them out. That left myself, Stanthorpe and Ron for the side door and the freezers. I double checked the gun in my pocket and the wand on my wrist, having the sinking feeling I'd have to use both.

..::..-.-..::..

We ran from shadow to shadow, our heads down and feet pumping across the wet gravel. Stanthorpe led the way, and Ron and I followed, the others having split off to go to the front entrance while we took the side. The factory loomed in front of us like a large wall, but Stanthorpe knew there was a door in the darkness somewhere, and he felt around for a bit before finding it. A great sweeping of dust shot out of the opening, and the door itself made a great screeching sound, of course.

We all winced at the sound, but were forced to ignore it and the replying groans from the undead inside. We'd been hearing them moan and groan the whole trip over, trying to pick a count of them by sound alone. All mournful sounds of the walking dead sounded the same after a while, sure, but it was all about picking out the subtleties - if they sounded male or female, or less or a groan and more of a gargle courtesy of a throat wound. I'd picked out maybe eight unique moans from the walking dead inside, and told Stanthorpe as much before we walked in the door.

"That still means there could be six alive," he said, his torch strapped to the top of his rifle, held in two steady, calloused, hands. He pointed it forward and gestured to us to follow, and we did.

The inside of the plant was pretty much as expected. It was dark, dank and dusty, _of course_, and didn't feel like a very habitable place. We appeared in a small room with a desk sitting in the corner, filing cabinets on the other wall, and other fixings - fake plants, computer, framed certificates hanging on the wall - confirming it as a normal little office, a place for a bored desk-sitter to sign people in and out from the outside. The solitary door out of the place took us into an empty hallway, and although at first I thought the night air we brought in made the hall chilly, I considered for a moment where we were exactly.

"The freezers are close," I said, my breath coming out in front of my face. I shivered, but held my grip on the gun in my jacket pocket tighter.

"This way," Stanthorpe muttered, nodding his head.

The carpeted hallway turned off into a larger, tiled, room, with another particularly wide set of doors on the right side leading to the loading bay, and the set on the left leading to the freezers. There were a few trolleys stacked up next to the freezer doors, used to transfer goods from the loading bay to the freezers or vice versa.

"Through here," said Stanthorpe, nodding towards the freezers' doors.

In the distance, we heard a moaning sound, followed by multiple gunshots. Leeson and Ernie's plan to lead the zombies out to Juliet, hopefully going well. If not... I fought that possibility down and helped Ron and Stanthorpe wedge open the dead-bolted door.

We arrived in another hallway, this one pearly white in colour and with sturdy, thick, walls, doors of similar build embedded deep in the walls within reaching distance of each other - the freezers, box-shaped things in a row, separately insulated as could be. It was very cold in this hall. Stepping forward was like stepping into a room filled with snow, and every instinct of my body immediately said to run, to turn around and go find warmth. This wasn't a Dementor's cold - thank Merlin - but it was bad enough.

"The freezers are worse," Stanthorpe said.

"You reckon?" Ron remarked, holding his cricket bat closer to himself.

Unfortunately, when we got closer to the end of the line, Stanthorpe's look became increasingly more desperate. He paused at two freezers sitting next to each other, both with their doors wide open.

"These are the ones," he said grimly, cocking his rifle. "The power's not on, and... They'd hide inside."

But the doors were open. As far as hiding places go, having the doors open made for a bad one.

There was a muffled groan from somewhere down the hall, and we tensed.

"Just one," said Stanthorpe. "You two go take care of it, and I'll check these two."

"Stan -"

He gave me a flat look. "No, just go. The freezers are not hard to open, and just don't stay too long in the cold ones."

He went down the hall, and Ron and I turned the other way. He took the right side, I took the left, and we began opening doors systematically, pulling half-frozen handles out with grunts and groans, some doors opening for us and some requiring a magic touch. With Stanthorpe on the other end of the hallway, we were a little more comfortable using our wands, even if they were still strapped to our wrists and as such barely flexible enough to cast many spells.

Ron was ahead of me, still checking his side, when I found the occupied freezer. I almost called for Ron, but decided against it, venturing forward curiously.

There was a girl, not much younger than me with brown hair and askew glasses, and she was half-frozen to the floor. It was a strange sight; she - it - was like a sculpture, once a normal girl wearing normal clothes now a corpse sheeted in ice, thick icicles hanging off its outstretched arms. When it noticed me, the new meat, it started moaning through its half-frozen mouth, and tried desperately to break through the ice holding it arms and legs in place. I walked forward and it let out the zombie equivalent of a curse word, which sounded a lot the same as a zombie greeting but with a bit of extra moan to it.

Half of her head was encased in the ice, icicles hanging where hair once was. More than a little fascinated, I snapped off a bit about the size of a knife, and felt the ice chill my skin through my gloves.

"Huh," I said.

Wait, what was I doing? I dropped the icicle, took the gun from my pocket, aimed at the zombie's head, and started to squeeze the trigger -

Then she - _it, _dammit - began to break free of the ice.

And she did it fast. Faster than any zombie should move.

When I looked into her eyes, those milky white eyes, I didn't see the vacant soullessness of the usual walking dead. Her eyes were alight with... something. Memory told me it was instinct, rage and hunger, and the last time I had gotten this close to a zombie to look into its eyes, I had used Legilimency to see inside.

The zombie squirmed and thrashed in its icy bindings, and I saw a chance.

I just knew it then. The girl was like Davies, from Kingsley's team, the one who had been turned into an alive zombie - bit of a misnomer, but no better term for it - by a Dementor, faster and stronger than the usual walking dead. She was different than the others, and the hows and whys of her being here were gone, and I was leaning in to make eye contact, to begin the Legilimency connection -

There was a great shattering noise, like something heavy pushing through glass and turning it back into sand with the force, and one of her legs and both of her arms wrenched free of their icy prison and reached for me, the sheer surprise of it knocking me off my feet. I pulled the gun's trigger, but the shot went wide, ricocheting off the wall and grazing the zombie's side. In watching the bullet travel i noticed that the zombie was completely on top of me now, while last I checked her left leg was still encased in ice...

The zombie was furiously unrelenting in trying to eat me, so much that she let her own leg stay stuck to the ground just so she could chew at my face. The leg stayed where it was, still stuck, but the one-legged zombie girl hadn't appeared to notice.

I cursed and struggled, but the ice added to her weight and made it impossible to simply heave her off, and one of her flailing arms knocked the revolver out of my hand. Oh, joy. I used my left hand to hold her half-frozen jaw back while my right hand reached blindly, grasping onto something sharp and cold... The icicle I dropped before.

Ron's footsteps echoed in the background. "Harry!" he cried.

"Ron! Is Stanthorpe here?"

"What? No?"

"Good!" I spat, stabbing the icicle into the exposed skin of the zombie's throat. I turned my wrist around and point the tip of wand at the bottom of the icicle, and with a burst of magic, the icicle was propelled forward, stabbing up through the bottom of her jaw, slicing through her face, skull and brain, half of it sticking up from the other side. Her snapping face went slack in death, and I finally pushed her off me with a bit of magic. I lied there on the cold floor for just a second, panting.

"Wow," Ron said dryly. "That's the most action you've gotten from a woman in a year."

I looked up at him, and damn it all but there was a big grin on his face, the first I'd seen in what felt like a long time.

"I'll give you that one," I said, a laugh escaping me as I stood, heading over to pick up my revolver. _Useless thing_, I thought, pocketing it. "Come on funny guy, let's get out of here."

But Ron didn't budge. "What was that about? You let a frozen zombie girl pounce on you?"

"Not my finest moment," I admitted. "But... it was... like Davies. She was turned by a Dementor, Ron."

"Oh."

I snorted. "Yeah. Exactly."

Stanthorpe appeared soon after, and took one look at the zombie's body before sadly declaring it was Maple's daughter. "The hideout freezers were empty too," he said sadly. "No idea what happened, but... Well, their luck must've run out."

Luck had a habit of doing that, I'd noticed.

The three of us, cold, miserable, and tired, left the freezers behind soon after, and met up with Juliet out in the main hallway. She was standing under a dimmed lightbulb, a torch in one hand and a pistol in another, but looked no worse for wear.

"We killed twelve," she said. "We still haven't found Maple or his daughter."

"She's dead," I said, rubbing the back of my head where it had hit the freezer floor. "No idea about him."

"Right." She nodded at Stanthorpe and Ron, letting them pass her, but stopped me with a look. "You're alive."

"You sound shocked."

"Figured you'd be too busy asking questions to care about your own safety."

I smiled blandly at her. "Get to the point."

"You know why somebody like Stanthorpe isn't a leader?" she asked. "It isn't because he doesn't want to be - hell, if enough people badgered him, he'd be up for it. To prove my point, just earlier..." She let out a snort. "No, it's because he's not strong enough for it, and he knows it. He can't make the hard calls, the ones that end lives and stay with you for days and weeks and months and years."

"Like earlier, about coming in here."

"Jacobs got bitten," she said, and I wondered which of the two Muggles whose names I hadn't learnt she meant. That was a horrible feeling to have: I didn't know their fucking names, and now one was dead. "We put him down, easy, but Stanthorpe's going to have to understand he caused this."

"You agreed to come too," I accused. "You could've pulled rank."

"And let him go off and get you, himself, the ginger, the Scot, and the creepy one killed? No, leaders should be adaptive."

"And you don't think Stanthorpe is."

She glared at me. "Like I said, he's not strong enough. He should've abandoned this place the second we heard a zombie. No risk, no lives lost... I agreed to go along with his plan, yes, but Fortess will know that it was Stanthorpe's idea, not mine. One dead that shouldn't be, all because Stanthorpe wasn't strong enough, and I was stupid enough to think otherwise."

I considered her. By now we were just glaring each other down - me glaring her down and her glaring me up. She was cute, I guess, when she wasn't glaring or scowling, which was always. "You know I've been asking questions," I said, and her nose twitched in annoyance. "So let me ask you one, Juliet. Why are you the way that you are?"

She laughed coldly. "We don't have all night."

"Then give me your story. Everyone has a story."

"What's yours again? University student turned zombie killer doctor extraordinaire, leading a band of his friends through hell that much more trained, experienced, men didn't survive."

"Luck played a part."

"Luck never plays a part," she said fiercely. "It doesn't count. It's our actions, our choices that leads where we are. I don't trust you or your story. I don't know what it is, but it's _something_ that you're hiding. You and your friends are almost too perfect, happy to help and healthy and -"

I cut her off. "You didn't answer my question."

Juliet scoffed, and her tone was laced with with a kind of scorn that didn't expect pity in return as she said, "I grew up on the streets. Was definitely not perfect, and we found ourselves at war, every night. Other gangs, kids like us, who started small and got big when our elders decided we'd be great at enforcing for them. Small, unassuming, perfect fit for a bomb or a gun." Her face hardened. "I got away, came to Granford, and Fortess saved me. That's all there is to it. Back before he was Fortess, when he was Officer Aaron, with a kind wife who never tried to understand, or coddle, but still helped me." She holstered his pistol and her hands instantly went to the rifle at her back, as if to assure herself it was there. I absently noticed that the rifle had her name engraved in it, and guessed it was a very, very, strange birthday present of some kind. "I am the way I am because it's who I've become, after years of making hard choices. I _act_, more than anything else. That's why I'm a leader."

Juliet reminded me of me, as funny as it sounded. Our motivations, our drives, were different, but there was this sense of her, this look and feel of her being dangerous, of being powerful in her own right. She was strong and wouldn't take any crap. I differed in that I was a Healer. I made hard choices before - made more than a few just lately, even - but I always went in with the intent to save. Did Juliet do the same, or was she driven by her want to be like Fortess, one who acts and makes hard choices because that's all she knew?

And me... I'd pushed Stanthorpe into this. I went in with the intent to save, and a life was lost. Did that make Juliet better than me, because she made the call, because she would've acted differently?

I didn't get a chance to ponder her much more; she walked off, and I followed. We arrived in a dim little reception area where Stanthorpe was leaning over the corpse of the Muggle, Jacobs, looking forlorn. Ron, Ernie and Terry stood near the doors, glancing up as I came in trailing Juliet.

"So do we know what happened here, exactly?" Ernie asked.

"Don't suppose they left a note," said Terry, looking around. "I'd take bloodstained ones, even."

Juliet sighed. "I don't know, we all don't know. Everyone but Maple's accounted for, and no other corpses. No strays. Maybe somebody got bitten out there, didn't say anything. It doesn't matter." Then, quieter, "It just doesn't now."

Ron and I shared a look, and Terry exclaimed, "Well, this sucks."

Juliet frowned at him. "Where's Leeson and Matthews?" she asked, as if just noticing their absence.

"Went that way," Terry replied, gesturing to the left. Juliet sighed at him, he returned the gesture with almost fondness, she headed off to the lft, and I followed.

"I have this," she told me, without looking back.

"Two died already today. Let's not make that number any higher."

"Then maybe you should _go back_."

I didn't, and she didn't say anything more. The hallway felt a lot more abandoned, dustier and dimmer, than the others, a straight walk to past a few employee bathrooms and to a large factory area. The factory floor was all muted browns and smelled of dried blood and death, and when we arrived, we saw Leeson in the middle of the room, shining his torch all around.

"No sign of 'im," he said. "Maple's gotta be around here somewhere."

"We already know he's dead," Juliet said flatly. "No ifs about it. Come on, Leeson, get Matthews and head back. Now."

Leeson sighed, tired and strained. He looked at me, and nodded listlessly. "Hell of a day, eh?" he said. "First Madge, then Jacobs, now Maple and his people... Can't help but think this might not be a good sign for the coming winter."

"You survived the last winter intact," I said.

"Not all of us," Juliet muttered, and I had to wonder about the look that crossed her face.

"This feels... worse," revealed Leeson. "Like there's something coming. We haven't heard from Liliford, haven't we? What's _that_ about?"

Juliet frowned at him.

"Hey guys!" Matthews's voice cried out in the din, deep and strong. "Nothing back here!"

The sudden moan of a zombie quickly said otherwise. We all flashed our torches towards the source of the noise, and the crossbeam of the light showed a man, tall and with a great big grizzled beard, and very much dead. The zombie, Maple I'd bet, dropped the arm he'd been chewing on, and begun to head towards us, the low, droning, groan following like a trail in the dark, echoing and reverberating in my eardrums.

Gunshots ensued, from Juliet's rifle and another, sharp and crackling. The bullet blasted a hole in its head and ventilated its brains out the back, and seemed to take a moment for glazed, cloudy, eyes to dim even further, before it fell to the ground at Leeson's feet.

Leeson grunted in pain and fell to the ground as well, and I rushed forward.

"Well," he said. "We found Maple."

Then he realised at the same time as I did that his shoulder was bleeding.

"Where did that come from... I think it's a bullet wound..." He let out a breath and swore. "You _shot_ me!"

Matthews emerged from the darkness, holding his pistol almost sheepishly. "Sorry, Lee."

"I can't believe you shot me!"

"I didn't mean to! The bullet went wide, and -"

"Just great," Juliet murmured in a put-upon voice. "I have to go alert Meadowes to bring the trucks." She sighed. "We can't let all these supplies go to waste. Potter?"

"Yeah, I got it," I told her, examining the bullet wound and trying to recall Muggle medical procedure for this. "Tell Ernie to get in here. I'll need a first-aid kit." And just for Juliet's benefit, I added, "Might as well make sure he doesn't bleed to death."

And no, I don't think that earned any points for me in her mind.

..::..-.-..::..

We were back on the road an hour later, a light wind pushing the smell of smoke at our backs, drifting from the bonfire we made just outside Maple's stronghold. Gathering the corpses had taken up less of our time than collecting what supplies we could, leaving the rest for a later team, who would have to disarm the traps and barricades and get a truck in here. It would all take time, and Juliet didn't want us wasting more than we had to. Everyone but Leeson, resting with his injured shoulder, had worked quickly, efficiently, and quietly. Nobody wanted to say anything - Stanthorpe's movements were robotic and his mouth set in a permanently grim frown, and Juliet looked resigned, disappointed in herself and the rest of us.

The two of them led the pack on the road back to our truck, the others trailing with tired steps. Ron, burdened by an extra bag, was trotting alongside me, and he broke the silence first.

"Harry," he said in a whisper, just for the two of us to hear at the back of the group. "Who did this?"

I sighed. "Couldn't tell you. Random circumstance would be nice, but given how things have been lately... Not likely."

"If it was just Dementors on their own, the place would be a breeding ground now."

"It's possible they didn't have much to breed on. Fourteen people. Just a snack."

"But..."

"But..." I sighed again, my lungs burning in protest at the action; it felt harder to get out than it should've. I was way too tired. "Liliford gets destroyed, and the purebloods would move on to the nearest people who could let Granford know. Just a loose end. No way to tell yet."

Ron turned his head and looked over his shoulder, down the road and to the cloud of black smog choking the clearing. I moved my own head upwards, feeling the faintest slivers of dawn light brush through the tops of the old overhanging trees. I didn't feel any warmer, but the light felt good. I closed my eyes for a second, and when I opened them, I caught Ron looking up too, an almost peaceful look settling on his face.

"Hey Ron..."

"I still need time Harry," he said quietly. "I just do."

"I know, I know." I nodded understandably. "Bill was concerned, when I saw him yesterday. We all are."

"I know."

"If at any time you want to go see Bill or the others, just say the word. The Burrows might be good for you."

A twitch of a sad smile played on his mouth. "Not likely, but thanks." He took in a breath. "I go back to The Burrows, and all I'll see are reminders of what I had planned for her, for Megan. When we'd get the time. I can't. I won't."

I could understand that as well. "I don't live in Grimmauld for the same reason," I told him. "I mean, it's easier to be in Hogsmeade, and there are zombies everywhere in London, but... It's because I'll just keep seeing things that remind me of Sarah. Don't need to freak out over finding her toothbrush or something stupid like that..."

Ron reached over and clapped me on the shoulder. "We just need time. Bigger fish, too." He inclined his head to the group ahead of us, the Muggles and wizards both. "Come on."

The smell of smoke and the reminder of the horrors of the night faded with every step forward. When I couldn't smell it anymore, I knew things might yet turn out okay. Eventually, anyway.

..::..-.-..::..

The sun was high in the sky when we returned to Granford, our truck stopping at the depot and our group, exhausted and heavy lidded after a half-slept trip back, trudged the trail back the two bridges into town. Leeson's wound had been cleaned and bandaged, and although he'd get it checked by the town's doctor, I was overall proud of my work. The man himself was thankful and the others looked at me with a bit more respect, while was a nice feeling. Despite our quirks, me and my friends had proved ourselves to Granford, becoming truly integrated into the community. But while I would soon take advantage of that to get in good with Fortess, right now, the only thing I had in mind was sleep, nothing else.

Stanthorpe said nothing the entire trip back, and Juliet was even quieter.

I didn't know what to make of the latter, and gave the former his space; he'd just need time, too.

Before coming up to Tent Bridge, I begged my friends off and headed to the farms, going to check up on Neville. He had elected himself to skip the supply run and instead keep an eye on things back on the home front, maybe because he didn't want the stress, maybe not. Either way, he was tilling an empty patch of land manually when I found him.

"All went well?" he asked, taking in my generally dishevelled form critically. "Or, all went well but a few snags along the way?"

I thought about the zombie girl I killed in the freezer. "Glad I didn't leave home without my wand," I said. "News from around here?"

Neville shook his head. "None. Fortess's group and Warren's got back a few hours ago, and we were waiting for news about yours before Juliet radio'd in and -"

"Who the 'ell is that?" One of the other farmers cried, pointing. Neville and I snapped our attentions to the hill to the east, a lone figure coming up over the hill. At first I wondered if one of the Ministry watchmen's Dillusionment Charm had failed, but I dismissed that right away. The figure wasn't exactly walking so much as stumbling, not in the gait of a zombie, but in such a way it looked like he was having trouble remembering how to walk properly. I considered for a moment that it actually _was_ a zombie, and my feet moved towards the hill on their own accord.

Neville followed, but we weren't the only ones to converge on the visitor. Two sentries moved from their spots on other hills, their rifles pointing at the figure but neither of them firing; Fortess wouldn't have put quick-triggers out here just in case a new arrival was actually alive. And it was starting to look more and more like this thing was alive...

I almost doubted that when I smelled him. It was something like rotten meat, singed hair and wet garbage all combined into one, a horrible smell that lingered in the nostrils and stung the back of my mouth. The two sentries, plain-looking men both with military demeanours, noticed it too, and released the safety switches on their rifles.

"Wait!" Neville cried, as the figure, a man, pitched forward and fell onto the grass. The sentries didn't fire their guns, instead approaching cautiously.

My natural Healer instincts had me there first, but I didn't pull out of my wand. Instead I just prodded him with my foot, holding myself tightly and preparing to jump back in case of him being a hungry zombie.

He groaned a human-sounding groan, and turned over. He may have looked like a corpse, but he wasn't one, and the rise and fall of his chest and the little hiccuping sounds he made confirmed it. His arms and legs, dirty and scratched but free of any bite marks, were stringy and lean, and his shirt hung off him, the wind kicking it up and showing the emaciated figure underneath. His hair was long, dark and lank, he was unshaven, and up close the smell of rotten meat was near unbearable.

But I knew his face. He had been in my Potions classes for six years.

So, the question became, what the _hell_ was Theodore Nott doing in Granford?

..::..-.-..::..

_To Be Continued in Chapter Six: Insidious..._

..::..-.-..::..

Post-Chapter Notes:

_- Next Chapter Tease ::_ A mysterious visitor has arrived in Granford, chaos seeps from his lips, and Harry finds himself run ragged in putting him with the pieces of the puzzle. No zombies next week, either. Though I _did_ forget there actually _were_ zombies at Malfoy Manor in Influence, despite me saying otherwise at the end of Infiltration, so if I have forgotten again, I'll retract that statement retroactively.

_- Wizengamot Scorecard ::_ No changes, but here just to refresh. As of the end of this chapter:

- _Pro-Disclosure_ :: Harry, Neville, Susan, Antioch Boot, Brown, Patil, Hart.

- _Anti-Disclosure_ :: Malfoy, Parkinson, Bulstrode, Selwyn, Gale, Harper, Burke.

- _Swing Votes_ :: MacMillan, Smith, Diggory, Zabini, Aquilla, Cuffe.

- _Former Members ::_ Bill Weasley (Resigned).

- _Member Count ::_ Twenty.

- _Status ::_ Evenstalled.

- _Pending Members _:: Astoria Malfoy (Greengrass seat).

Thanks for reading!

..::..-.-..::..


	6. Chapter Six: Insidious

_Standard Disclaimer_ :: All things Harry Potter belong to JK Rowling and affiliates. This fanfiction is a non-profit venture written for the enjoyment of myself and my readers.

_Dedication :: _To Seratin, Lutris, Zeitgeist, Vira and my friends from DLP, for putting up with my insanity, for reading early drafts, and just being there. Also, to all those who reviewed/favourited/alerted me or my story here on , cheers. Props to DLP for the feedback, too - anyone reading this who hasn't devoured their C2 on this very site must do so now. It's the first community on the list, for a damn good reason.

_Preface :: _Things haven't been moving all that fast in the previous chapters, but that's about to change. The time to introduce plot elements is nearing its end; the time to start destroying them is about to begin.

_Previously :: _Back in Chapter Four, Harry, unable to protect the Ogdens personally, agreed to supervise the casting of a Fidellius Charm when the time was right, and soon afterwards came to learn that Astoria Malfoy's having slight doubts over her future position as a Wizengamot member, to his delight. In the previous chapter, Harry and his friends went on a supply run with the Muggles over the course of a full day, discovering that a go-between for Granford and Liliford's communication had been destroyed under mysterious circumstances, and that has put the Muggles on edge for what's coming next. As Harry returned to Granford, he was present when the sentries spotted a new visitor stumbling through the hills... He is Theodore Nott, a former classmate of Harry's...

..::..-.-..::..

_Chapter Six of Sixteen: Insidious_

..::..-.-..::..

On Tent Bridge, there was a flurry of activity as the last supply gathering group returned and was followed by two sentries dragging a mysterious stranger between them, heading across the bridge and into the town.

I followed as fast as I could, pushing through a buzzing hive of people and their tents flapping in the breeze, crossing the bridge right behind the two sentries carrying Theodore Nott between them. I don't know why, but I had to track the man's every step, as if he were a ticking timebomb about to go off, waiting for the opportune moment.

He didn't look it, though. He was dropping in and out of unconsciousness, brought on by fatigue or starvation or something else I couldn't identify off hand, but he was still Theodore Nott, last seen in Azkaban, last thought dead, dismissed from my mind entirely. But his old associates, his old friends, were those on the other side of this, trying to kill the Muggles - the same Muggles watching Nott go by, crossing the bridge in the arms of two men and looking like a corpse.

Once I crossed into the town proper, I took an immediate right and into the swallowing streets, a navigable maze I'd spent a few days getting the hang of with the others, because I had to know every possible shortcut, every possible path from the bridges to Abe's, or the bridges to the main square, or the main square to the filtering station with its tunnel out of town... I wasn't quite a Granford expert yet, busy as I was with other pursuits, but I knew enough to get to Abe's within minutes, vaulting over barricades and ignoring curious looks from the townspeople as I did. Soon enough, I found myself before the pub.

"Abe!" I called, pushing open the door. "Ron! Anybody here?"

Abe appeared, dressed in a dirty apron over a dirtier shirt, his beard in tangles and his expression gruff. "They just went off to sleep, Potter. What's going on?"

"Follow me," I told him, turning away from the pub and heading out into the streets of Granford once more. I hooked a few sharp corners and took a shortcut through two alleyways to get out and onto the main square, just in time to see the two sentries approach, still dragging Nott between them. Even from here, I could almost _taste_ the rotten meat smell emanating from him.

"And who is that?" Abe asked, coming up beside me and looking totally out of sorts from the little chase I'd led him on. "Looks like a corpse."

"It's Theodore Nott," I told him. "Son of Frederick, who you might remember from the old days."

Abe's eyes narrowed. "Aye at that, I do. Death Eater."

"Theo's made from the same mould," I said as the two escorts crossed by us, heading towards where the police station would be, to the northeast of the square. As they passed by, Nott's head snapped up and he sniffed at the air, head tilting towards mine. Slowly, and ignoring the grip the two sentries had him in, Nott took me in, dark eyes flashing through his unwashed hair.

Recognition flashed in those eyes, and he looked back to the ground, letting out a little giggle as he did. It made me shiver.

"He was in Azkaban," I murmured to Abe, "After Voldemort died, he couldn't avoid it, went down in flames. Good thing too, from what I heard. He was still there with the outbreak and the Dementor revolt. Those creatures destroyed everyone there."

"He survived, obviously."

"What if it's not that simple?" I asked hotly. "What if he escaped beforehand, or was even _rescued_?"

Abe grunted, folding his arms and nodding his head. "Then you best go find out why he's here then."

"I have my guesses," I murmured, and I did - it started with Nott being a pawn of the former Death Eaters and ended with Liliford's destruction. "Lots of questions, but I can't let the Muggles in." I sighed. "I was hoping to avoid using some Confundus Charms, but if I have to, well fine then."

"Maybe you should consider getting some sleep first," said Abe.

I told him I would later, which just made him re-cross his arms and frown severely. But I ignored that and left him, heading off to the streets right of the main square, before taking a north and heading for the police station.

While Fortess often held meetings in the Town Hall in the main square, and most of the administration work came out of there, a majority of his time was spent at the police station he worked at before all this shit went down, his own personal hub to direct Granford from. It was close to the armoury and had a bunch of quarters for security personnel, and in case of attack they would be ready to respond almost immediately. The station was small, squat, square and made of old brick, sitting in between an abandoned fire station taking up the rest of that side of the street and a little two-story set of flats that had been converted into a storage building.

I opened up the gate leading to the station and was halfway to the front doors when they opened for me, and Leeson stepped out, frowning. His arm was in a sling from where he'd taken a misplaced bullet on our supply run just hours earlier, and the healing had been my handiwork - my first bullet removal, in fact, and doing it all Muggle had been scary as hell but I'd pulled through anyway.

"Harry? What are you doing here?" he asked, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"Just in the neighborhood." I smiled disarmingly. "How's the arm?"

"Doc Schulz said you did good, and I got pain medication, so..." His uninjured shoulder shrugged. "You looking to talk to Fortess? He's out checking the filtering station, sorry."

"Actually I saw our new arrival being brought in. Just curious about him."

"Curious?"

"He looked half-dead, and if Schulz is busy, he'll need to be looked over. I'm volunteering."

"Shouldn't you be sleeping? I'm not because well, the meds, but you don't look so flash."

I waved him off with a hand. "Nah, got some sleep in the truck," I lied. "I'm more inclined to sleep at night, anyway. So do you want me to take a look?"

Leeson raised his eyebrows. "Uhh... sure, I guess. I mean, you did a good job with my arm, and yeah, sure. We have him locked in the back, I'll show you."

The police station had grey walls, worn carpet and the appearance of overall sparseness. An unmanned reception desk half-hidden behind a wall of steel bars - basically a cage - was our destination. The cage sat before a bunch of chairs and couches in the corner, arranged around an empty table - where magazines and the like would've gone had this been a time and place for magazines. Leeson fished a small brass key from one of his pants pockets and unlocked the cage door next to the desk, swinging it inward and gesturing me through. He closed and locked the door behind us. I gulped, but it was more of a symbolic thing - with magic, basically locked doors were nothing to me anymore, but the fact it was still closed and locked was enough to make me nervous.

I had no idea what Nott would have to say, and that was worrying.

Leeson led me through a bland hallway, with several offices, including Fortess's, off to the side, but our destination was another cage door at the end of the hall. When Leeson opened this one, we arrived in another hallway, this one running horizontally before us, and was much dimmer, dustier, unused and practically abandoned. There were more cages lined on both sides of the wall; jail cells, this time, some small and some large. If there were beds in these cells for overnight prisoners, they had been moved somewhere else, and instead each cell simply contained a hard metal bench, a toilet, and a small sink hanging over it. There was a solitary window up high on the left side wall letting in a bit of light, and Leeson pointed in that direction and said, "We put him at the far end."

Nott's form was sprawled out on the bench when we approached, and Leeson unlocked the cell door carefully, immediately pocketing the key and pulling out a small revolver. I gave him a look and entered the cell, staring down at the corpse-like man.

"Your diagnosis?"

I frowned. "Half-dead, probably starved, smells like he's been swimming in a vat of pig guts and burnt hair. You checked for bite marks?"

"Only thing we really did, waiting for the Doc to come and all. He's free of bites, but I can't say a good thing about the rest of his state."

"No kidding."

Nott's head, hanging over the side of the bench, suddenly stirred up, and he murmured something.

"Guess he's awake," I said. "Look, I'll prop him up, so can you go get a first aid kit, just in case?"

Leeson looked sceptical. "Are you sure? I'm not leaving without locking up behind me."

"I'll be fine," I assured. "I can fend off a half-dead guy, and if it turns out he's particularly spry, I'll scream really loudly so you can come running."

Amusement crossed over his face. "Right. I'll get the kit."

"Thanks."

Leeson locked the cell door behind him, leaving me alone with Theodore Nott. I flicked my wand out of its holster and pointed it at the cell door, making a Silencing Charm and a small Muggle Repelling Charm to keep Leeson away for as long as I needed. I just hoped that's all I had to do to the man - I liked the guy, and with things as they are I don't fancy messing with his mind to keep him quiet.

I pointed my wand at Nott, and at my incantation a burst of red light sailed towards him; my Disarming Charm. When it didn't take a wand from him, I double-checked for a secret holster, and came up empty. Next, reverting to my Healer roots, I cast a few Diagnostic Charms. They told me he was starved, dehydrated and the soles of his bare feet were blistered to all hell, but apart from that he was healthy. He hadn't budged during the entirety of my magical examination, but since I wanted him to start talking, I got his attention with magic. One little spell, and a burst of air slapped him across the cheek.

"Ow," he said, but didn't move from his spot.

"Wake up, Nott."

"Not wake up," he replied, and I frowned at how words came from his throat. The sound was guttural, raw, and scratchy, the kind of voice that either came from disuse or overuse: he'd either been quiet for a while... or he'd been screaming, a lot, and lately.

"Theodore Nott," I said sharply, slapping him again with some magic. "We need to talk."

He finally started to move then, slumping up from the bench with his back towards mine, his hair reaching down to his shoulders, greasy and in tangles. He didn't turn. "I'm hearing, _hearing_, things again," he muttered. "Over and over, always voices. Mine and theirs and mine and theirs and mine."

"Nott, turn around."

"Another voice," he pondered. "Should I listen to it? The first voices are telling me no, no, no, no, _no_. No."

I frowned at his back. He started to babble the word "no" over and over, until it became less of a word and more of a mantra, a stream of thought and reassurance to himself. It was eerie, the way the words bounced off the walls and echoed, which no doubt made him think he was hearing even more voices.

Twenty seconds in and I knew Nott was insane.

"Theodore Nott," I said again, louder this time to get his attention. It worked, and he turned, his entire body swinging around the bench and facing me. His eyebrows were furrowed under all that hair. A glint of silver chain hung around his neck, a small amulet swinging on the end.

"Who's Theodore?" he asked himself, pronouncing the latter word as if tasting a particularly interesting dish. He said it like, "Thee-oh-door", the word rolling off his dry and cracked lips in parts. "Wait, that's me. I had almost forgotten. Silly. Thee-oh-door." Nott's eyes darted up towards my forehead. "I know you."

I frowned. It's not like the scar was there to see, but it was possible that was just him doing what wizards always did. "Why are you here, Nott? Who sent you?"

"_They_ did," he replied, almost with clarity but darkness dancing in his eyes. "My friends. The ones who made the cold go away."

_The cold? _"The Dementors? Did somebody rescue you from the Dementors?"

"So cold, every day. Sometimes warm, but that's..." He leaned in, and like he was telling me a secret, said, "Just slightly _less_ cold."

Azkaban could be like that. It also had a propensity to fry people's brains. Nott had been thrown in after the Dementors had been retired as prison guards, instead being gathered in the prison's basement levels as prisoners themselves. I'd heard stories about how the cold still managed to permeate through the floors and affect the prisoners, enough to feel like a Dementor was in the cell with them. And when the outbreak hit and the Dementors broke free... Well, it would've gotten a lot colder for the prisoners, left to be eaten after Azkaban's wardens had either fled or gotten themselves killed.

"I've been in the cold for a long time," he said. "My home was cold, cold, ice cold..."

"Nott, focus."

"He wanted the cold beasts there, and father said yes. Father always said yes to _him_. Couldn't ever say no, no, no."

"Nott, did you escape Azkaban?"

"Escape?" He frowned, puzzled. "Nooooo. I just walked out."

Which sounded like escaping, or could even mean him being rescued, marched out by his former Death Eater friends. But, the question remained, if Nott had been rescued, why? Even if he just escaped, how had he ended up here? I highly doubted it was a coincidence, especially given how carefully the pureblood agenda was playing things...

Somehow I doubted I'd get either answer from Nott, however. I'd try him again, of course, maybe even use a bit of Legilimency if I wanted to risk delving into his mind. But for now, there were others I could ask, like Astoria, Susan, or even -

"There's no mist," Nott murmured to himself, rocking back and forth on his bench. "There was mist where the other place was."

I froze.

"The Ford of Lilies... now the Ford of Gran..." A little giggle escaped his lips. "Shouldn't that be the Ford of Grand, instead? Or is it just not supposed to make any sense? Ford of Gran." Again, another giggle, and a shiver went down my spine. "Were they both named what they are now before this? That, _that_, that, is a really good question." He moved his head upwards, his eyes meeting mine. "Can you answer that question?"

_It just asks more. It all just asks more._

"Theee-oh-doooooor," Nott sang. "Theee-oh-doooooor..."

I dispelled the wards, and Leeson showed up halfway into Nott's fourth reciting of his own name.

"What's he doing?" Leeson asked, passing the first aid kit to me. "Is he... singing?"

"That's his name," I breathed out. "I think. Look, umm, he seems fine, no bites, yeah. I'm not sure about his mental state."

Nott scoffed and turned his back on us, mumbling to his own name to himself.

"Get some food into him, and some water," I told Leeson. "Maybe a shower. Or three. I know Fortess is going to want to have a talk with him, see why he's here and if he should be let into the general population... Tell him to not even consider it. He'll see for himself why, but tell Fortess to keep Theodore _here_. For good if need be."

The older man nodded seriously.

I feigned a yawn. "I gotta get back to Abe's and get some sleep, or at least pretend to. I'll be back later, okay?"

He led me out of the cells, down the back hallway and out past the reception area, waving me off before I jogged back to Abe's. In the streets of Granford, I found the morning sun unusually warm today, and it only served to make me feel more tired. I'd been up for almost two days straight, and even before then I'd only gotten a few hours of sleep after being up another two days previous. My movements felt sluggish, but I urged myself to go on: the game was afoot, and I needed to react quickly. I pushed on through my alleyway shortcuts, reminding myself to down a Pepper-Up Potion first chance I could.

I arrived at Abe's to find the man himself and Ron playing chess, the Muggle kind, over the bar. I wasn't shocked Ron was still awake; he hadn't been sleeping well since Megan.

"Heard about Nott," he said, flicking over one of Abe's pawns with his bishop. "And how is our old classmate doing?"

"Azkaban made him mad," I replied.

"Shocker. The Dementors..." Ron frowned severely. "Did he have anything to say?"

"Babbled a bit, but let loose one bit of information." I settled myself against the bar, deliberately not sitting down, because sitting down might just lead to outright sleeping, and I needed to stay mobile. "He was in Liliford, and he knows it's mist."

Abe swore, and Ron echoed him. "Are you thinking there's a good reason for that?" Ron asked.

"He's _here_, isn't he? It's no coincidence."

"Granford's nearly gone," said Abe.

We all went quiet at that. Ron and Abe had had time to discuss things, and I had time to think about it. We'd all come to the conclusion that another piece of the puzzle was falling in place. Nott had been in Liliford, and if I were to guess, he was there because he had been sent there. He was thought dead when Azkaban fell, and his appearance would stupefy the Ministry operatives inside Liliford - even if they recognised him, what with all that hair - long enough for him to do what he had to. He'd take care of the watchmen, marginalise the Ministry spies, and pave the way for the Dementors to be Portkey'd in. With the watchmen taken care of, nobody would be alerted for a while; hell, we still hadn't figured out when exactly the attack took place, only that the last supply run to Liliford was two weeks before we found it covered in mist.

Nott was dangerous enough before Azkaban made him insane, and if he'd been prepared enough, it could've taken him less than hour to destroy Liliford.

And he was here in Granford. Locked up in a cell. But, for how long?

"Ron, I need you to watch Lucas Meadowes," I said, breaking the silence. "If he's paid to, he might slip a wand to Nott and help him escape. So make sure he doesn't get to the police station at all. Distract him, get the Muggles onto him, or, just, I don't know, do _something_ if he acts. Got it?"

He nodded. "Harry, if Nott's going to be doing to Granford what he did to Liliford..." A dark look crossed Ron's face. "Won't he have to deal with the wards?"

I hadn't thought of that. Those wards had been erected specifically because we figured Liliford had been destroyed from the inside out by a Portkey'd Dementor or ten. Now it was possible that the Dementors came from a distance and the Muggles couldn't act in time (And if the Ministry operatives were taken care of by Nott...), but it would've been easier to prevent escapees into the mines if it was a complete surprise attack, mist spreading from the inside out. If the agenda wanted to do the same to Granford, they'd have to take the wards down first.

"Then they'll have people messing with them outside the boundary," I said. "Neville's working out there all day, so get him to have a look. Abe, you know where the wards are anchored? If so, attach yourself to them. See if you can feel anything, and if they begin to get dismantled, you'll definitely feel it."

The two nodded, their instructions for the day handled. And as much as I wanted to go off to sleep, I had to get out of Granford and get some help.

..::..-.-..::..

"Theodore Nott?" Susan said, pursing her lips distastefully. "Are you sure?"

"Very."

"He's bad news."

"Tell me something I don't know."

We stopped our stroll at the bank of Hogwarts's Great Lake, standing on the muddy shore and looking out over the loch. Up here in Scotland, the sun was hiding in the clouds, and it was colder, darker and probably about to rain as well. Susan bundled her cloak closer to herself, and I stuck my hands in my pockets. After the standard check that there were no eavesdroppers, our conversation continued in earnest.

"Did you know him at all?" I asked her, teeth clattering.

"From Hogwarts, but vaguely. Until, well, until my seventh year."

The year of the Carrows, where the Muggleborns were all gone and the purebloods would think themselves on top of the fucking world. "I heard Malfoy was quiet all year, but I take it Nott wasn't."

She shook her head. "At least at first Snape made it look like nothing was wrong. The Carrows were berks, but didn't get torture happy until a few months in, when Neville..." She smiled in fond remembrance. "He questioned them. Got his cheeks cut up bad for it, but his example made us all more rebellious, and brought the DA back. Then the torture started, and, well, things went down from there. For Nott, it was the opposite. He wasn't subtle, or fake. At the start of the year, he was loud and in charge, walking around with Crabbe and Goyle and making himself out to be a favourite of the Dark Lord's, especially after Malfoy's family lost favour. He was Marked when he came back from the summer, and made sure everyone knew. He was appointed Head Boy, Harry. And Nott was nothing more than a monster with power over the students like that, at first."

"At first. You're saying he calmed down? Was he ordered to by Snape or something, or... I mean, did he just not seem as bad in comparison when the Carrows cut loose?"

"No, no, nothing like that." Susan's eyes moved past the lake and around up to Hogwarts, silent, unmoving and carrying memories light and dark. A wind picked up. "Nott was a menace, and a monster, but after the Christmas hols, he was quieter. He flinched at shadows, wore warm clothing even as the weather warmed up, started talking to himself. We thought he'd been Cruciated one too many times by his Lord, even made jokes about it. But... It was something else, even if I didn't realise it until I was there when we arrested him and his father, after the Battle of Hogwarts."

I got the sinking feeling I knew what she was talking about. Nott had said as much back in his cell.

_"My home was cold, cold, ice cold... He wanted the cold beasts there, and father said yes. Father always said yes to him. Couldn't ever say no, no, no."_

_He_. Nott's father always said yes to only one person, the one he served for nearly fifty years. Voldemort.

Susan continued, "We arrested him and his father at their home. I think you were off taking care of Gibson at the time, with Robards... Anyway, we went in, engaged in a fight, got them down without losing anybody. Then, later when we were exploring the place for dark artefacts to add to their sentence... We found their basement."

"Dementors," I said. "They had Dementors. In their home."

Susan nodded. "We found similar set-ups in other places, but there were more empty ones. We guessed that You-Know-Who wanted to keep some hungry Dementors on standby for the Battle of Hogwarts, and released most of them there. We'd rounded up most by that point, and just took the ones from Nott Manor. But it made Nott's behaviour make sense, especially during his father's interrogation. Harry, Nott was forced to feed the Dementors. All during the holiday, he was practically living with them."

"And when we threw him into Azkaban with those monsters in the basement..."

"There's no telling how far he's truly gone. He could be completely far gone."

"He already is."

Susan's face went white as a sheet, grave and scared. "Then you need to get him away from Granford. Stick him somewhere else, _anywhere_ else. We don't have Azkaban, but Robards could find somewhere for him."

_Or kill him, _I thought. _You would never go for that, Susan, but I would._ "I've been thinking about how this fits in with what Abe and I thought their plan would be," I said. "How the bad guys would make it look like we broke the Statute of Secrecy and all that. It's very possible they'll pull this card in two days, on Sunday's meeting. Then, immediately afterwards, they get Nott to do his thing, destroy the wards, unleash the Dementors. Turn Granford into another breeding ground."

"Well then Nott has two days to be released by one of their operatives, that's all. Harry, _you_ need to get him out. Now."

"No, but think about it. If they got Fortess to agree to the crops and break the Statute in preparation to frame us, they obviously wouldn't tell Fortess they plan to destroy his town. Nott's in jail right now, Susan. If Fortess learns what's going to happen because he interrogates Nott enough, I can help convince him that he's being played. I could get him to come forward with who helped him out, and we could beat them at their own game." I folded my arms and thought about it. "Or... In those two days I could talk to Nott personally, and get him to give me a name. _Then _I'd get somebody arrested, take care of Nott, explain to the Muggles exactly why their prisoner's gone missing, and then we win. There's an advantage to keeping him exactly where he is. And the purebloods gave us time, which they really shouldn't have done."

From what I could see playing on her face, Susan seemed to bite back what she wanted to say. Maybe my logic wasn't completely sound, but even if I removed Nott from the board, they'd find another way. Maybe they thought Nott's insanity would be a good defence against interrogation, or maybe they made sure he wouldn't have anything in his mind to lead back to them. Either way, it all depended on me talking with again this time with a bit more... force. Veritaserum would be nice right now. I told Susan as much.

"I don't have any on hand, and there's no way Stark would let me use the DMLE's stock," she said, "But I'll look. You planning to go right back and talk with him?"

I nodded, though it hadn't been my first plan. I actually wanted to go see Astoria, hear what she'd say if I asked about Nott, maybe hear if Malfoy ever mentioned his old school friend... And well, to be honest, I wanted to see Astoria. The lack of sleep was putting me through the ringer, but she was a calming presence in those situations - I knew as much thanks to our nights in the Hospital Wing.

"Okay, but you've got some messages, and while I don't relish being your secretary..."

I grinned at her. "But you're so _good_ at it."

"Funny. First off, the next meeting's been called for Sunday. Two days from now."

I nodded. "Yeah, I figured."

"Malfoy's wife will get her seat by then."

"Yeah, I figured," I said again, frowning to myself.

Susan didn't comment. "Anyway, Ogden needs you again. His note said you'd need to be 'you-know-where' to do 'you-know-what' this afternoon."

Ahh. It was time to cast the Fidellius Charm around the cottage housing Ogden's family - his wife, his daughter, his granddaughter. He'd found somebody to cast it, but wanted the Secret Keeper present: me. This afternoon? I could handle that.

"Any notes from any of the Wizengamot?" I asked. With the meeting this close, if people wanted last minute appointments or talks, now would be the time to start organising. "Gale?"

She shook her head. Well, so much for that plan, so far. I might just have to arrange to accidentally bump into him tomorrow or something.

"Amos Diggory wants brunch on Sunday. He said he's ready to hear you out." Good to hear; we had a big talk ahead of us about Cedric. "Angus MacMillan told me that I'm welcome to lunch with him and Smith tomorrow, because he enjoyed dinner with you and thinks I might be good company." She grimaced. "I think he's trying to convert _me _to his side, which is flattering, but I refused him, don't worry. Said I was busy working. And notable in its absence is a note from Cuffe - guess you're not making an impression. And finally, Bill got some gold to me, just in case you want me to buy Zabini's vote."

"Nothing from the other side? No mocking notes, no taunts?" I'm almost disappointed.

"What do you think Nott is supposed to be? Way you describe, he's a walking, talking, taunt. All for you." She leaned forward and scrutinised me. "You went into Granford and Nott still showed up. They're going ahead as planned with Malfoy's wife taking her seat. They want you to react."

_Trust me Susan_, I thought, _I'll react_.

..::..-.-..::..

I took a bit of the Scottish weather back to Granford with me, grey clouds in the sky blocking the sun completely and a light drizzle starting up after I crossed the Old Bridge back into town. I removed my Invisibility Cloak once I got to Abe's, found the bar empty, and went up to my room.

My room was small, impersonal, and a lot like the one back at St Mungo's. It had a rustic feel with a high roof and white walls, a solitary window on the right side of the room, and only had a bed and a bedside table to claim to fame. My bag, the Muggle one, was in the corner, and a few clothes were strewn on the ground where I'd left them. The first order of business was to move the bed, pushing it off to the side towards the window-side of the room. I stashed the Cloak under the two removable floorboards - an old trick but a good one - fetching a few potions from my kit while I was down there. The first potion was a Pepper-Up, and I knocked it back easily; it was a familiar potion, both to brew and to take, and I was more than used to the steam rushing out of my ears afterwards. But taking it made me feel more alert; not noticeably, but still enough to keep me standing for a while longer. A few other vials went into my jacket pocket for good measure.

I replaced the floorboards, moved the bed back, left the clothes where they were and left my room, locking the door behind me as I did. I passed by Ernie's and Terry's rooms in the hallway outside, and briefly listening in told me they were still asleep, Ernie's snores loud, Terry's erratic.

The bar was empty again when I walked down the stairs, and I decided against leaving a note. Time was wasting and Nott was waiting, and the Pepper-Up wouldn't stay in my system for long, the potion's function being short-term only.

I crossed into the main square on my way to the police station, and I found a bit of a commotion going on, a small green truck parked in the middle and several men, and one woman, crowded around it. Curious, I walked over, and spotted Stanthorpe standing next to the truck, dressed in a thick woollen jacket and sporting a bag over his shoulder. The other men and the woman surrounding him were no strangers either - they were Aaron Fortess and his deputies Warren and Juliet. However, their talk with Stanthorpe didn't appear to be confrontational, or even argumentative. Fortess's face was grave, Stanthorpe's graver, and Warren and Juliet and the others had studiously blank faces.

A tall man with blond hair and bushy eyebrows came up beside me; it was Auror Strong, one of the Ministry operatives under a glamour, though Strong's wasn't all that effective. "Stan's being sent out," he said to me, nodding his head respectfully. "To check on Liliford."

Of course he was. With Maple and his people dead, there went the first plan to go check on Liliford. Frosty inter-town relationships aside, Fortess would've had to send somebody out one day, and it seemed like today was that day. But Stanthorpe... Dammit. "Is this an order from Fortess, or...?"

Strong shook his square-shaped head. "No, he volunteered, apparently. You know why?"

I had my suspicions. "Guess I'll go ask. You heard about our new visitor?"

"It happens. We get more than a few who come to Granford personally instead of waiting to be rescued. They hear the radio broadcasts, or see the signs we put up in outer London... And they come. Sometimes they bring a horde with them, sometimes they don't."

"So we don't know what his story is?" I asked.

"Fortess had a talk with him, I heard, but nothing's come of it."

I nodded. I didn't know if I wanted the Ministry operatives, and their superiors, knowing about Nott's identity, but I was glad they hadn't cottoned on yet. I'd tell Robards in my own time.

"I'm going to go say my goodbyes," I said to Strong, gesturing towards Stanthorpe and his truck. The big Auror let me go without another word, melting into the crowd milling around in the usual midday tasks - picking up food rations, lodging requests at the town hall, gathering materials for the town's barricades, stuff like that. By the time I got into the middle of the town square that was less of a square and more of a circle, Fortess and his entourage had peeled off, and Stanthorpe was securing a rifle in the truck's passenger seat.

"Heard the news," I said to announce my presence. "You heading out?"

"Yeah," he said, sticking a box of ammunition on the seat next to the rifle. "I figure if I take the more abandoned roads, I can get there and back here by tomorrow afternoon. Hopefully I'll get there and everything will be fine, but..." He sighed. "After Maple's, I'm doubtful." He closed the passenger door and moved around to the driver's side of the truck, where I was standing.

"Is that why you're going?" I asked. "Because of what happened at Maple's? Stan, it's not your fault."

"You almost got eaten," he retorted. "Jacobs _did _get eaten. Leeson got shot. And Juliet was right - Maple was dead, and I should've known it the second we heard the zombies on top of that hill. But I insisted we go in, and, well, while I thank you for volunteering to help, it wasn't a good idea."

"But we had to go check," I reminded him. "We had to make sure they weren't all dead."

"But they were. And _somebody_ has to go check on Liliford, so it might as well be me. I'll be quick on my own, be back as soon as I can. I can stand on their hill and if I hear the undead, I know not to go in."

What he didn't know was that Liliford hadn't been destroyed by zombies. It was now a Dementors's breeding ground, nothing but souls and newborn Dementors, just as old as their progenitors and just as hungry. The mist had taken the entire valley, but by now it could've spread, and if Stanthorpe didn't realise what he was walking into in time... I'd never see him again. Granford would go on not knowing. Fortess would get worried for his own safety. Bad things would happen.

That is if Nott didn't kill us all first.

Unfortunately, while I liked and respected Stanthorpe, there was simply no telling him the truth and hoping he wouldn't leave. For one thing, it would break the Statute of Secrecy, an act which would just come back to bite me, and the disclosure bill, in the arse. For another, the man had taken a hit to his pride last night, and wouldn't back down now. I knew what it was like, and I wouldn't begrudge him that.

"Be careful," I commanded him, holding out my hand to shake. "You see or hear anything, just drive. Anything at all."

"I will," he assured, shaking back. I stepped aside, letting him enter the truck. He shot me one last grin before starting it up.

I just hoped it wouldn't be the last time I saw him.

That uncomfortable feeling gnawed at my gut as he drove off out towards the two bridges, and when I finally turned, I saw Fortess standing there, looking off in the distance.

"Harry," he said, not quite warmly, but in a familiar way. He wasn't cold, I think the way to describe it would be. Juliet and Warren's retreating backs were heading into the Town Hall, and when Fortess noticed my gaze, he added, "Meetings all afternoon. Just thought I'd take a break first - care to take a walk?"

"Umm, okay, sure," I said cautiously.

He led me to the west side of town, where the road got steadily steeper and buildings were stilted on one side. We walked quietly, and got more than a bit of attention from those working on the barricades on the roads. Fortess got nods and calls of greeting, while I got the usual battery of curious or suspicious stares. The usual, for me, but it was interesting to watch Fortess interact with people. I got the feeling he knew each and every one of them, and given how well he was running things, I didn't think that'd be so far-fetched. Granford was a small town and Fortess had lived here before the outbreak, so he had to have already known quite a few in an "everybody knows everybody" small town kind of way. Take a few hundred, lost to the zombie attacks and the previous winter, add some more refugees from outside, and there were a few more names to remember, but Fortess probably knew them all.

We got to the very top of the hill, where the road evened out on a plateau and a section of the electric fence stood before us. Looking behind me gave a view of all of the town - the square, the streets, the school, the hospital, the filtering station, the police and station and even Abe's. Fortess's expression was fond as he looked over his town, but his view moved from there to the opposite side, past the fence and over into the distance. Green hills, trees and a few farms could be seen, but Fortess was looking as far as he could, over the mountains far away.

"Sorry to drag you out here," he said, "But I needed the break, and I like coming here." He cleared his throat in an uncomfortable way. "I wanted to know how you and your friends were settling in."

"Good, I mean, it's certainly better than it was." As far as the town knew, we were college students who'd been on the run through zombie-infested England for a year. "Good, thanks," I eventually decided on.

"Heard you ran into some trouble yesterday, and I'm sorry it went like that." He exhaled a tired sigh. "I try not to anticipate surprises, but they seem to be a staple in the world we live in. Sometimes you don't expect how people will act. I never thought old Maple would be done in like that, but it happens. I'm just hoping you won't decide against helping out our teams in the future. I heard you were useful in a crisis."

"First bullet wound," I said lightly. "And don't worry, I'm sure Terry will sign us up for more trips in the future."

He looked vaguely amused. "I figured he volunteered you all. Next time I'll check with you before agreeing."

I laughed. "Terry's good like that."

"He's settling in too?"

"We all are." I sobered. "I mean, is Terry causing any trouble?" It was entirely possible that he might've been, and I wouldn't know; been busy. "I could talk to him if he is, because I know what you said about -"

"He's not causing trouble," Fortess assured. "A little strange, yes, and with a strange sense of humour, but he's harmless. He's spirited, which I like. And he's certainly not the first man to fall head over heels for Juliet, either."

I chuckled. "You included?"

His own amused visage evaporated. "Ah, no. I hold a great deal of affection for her, but, well, I had a wife I was very devoted to, Mr Potter. I loved her very much. I imagine it's the same with your fiancee, Sarah. It's been over a year, but... I'm sure you understand."

I understood completely, but, unbidden, the thought of Astoria, laughing at something I'd said and leaning against the cushions on her chair, came to my mind.

"What was her name?" I asked. "Your wife, I mean. I heard, uhh, from Juliet actually, that she was a very kind woman, and, well, what was her name?"

He looked startled at the very question. I got the feeling nobody brought her up in front of him, or at least they weren't just simply curious, trying to gain common ground and to understand the man, not the leader. He was just a normal police officer with a wife once, I knew, not the figure he appeared as now.

"My wife _was_ very kind," he said eventually. "And beautiful, and so many other things. You should know that her name is spoken more than you'd think. My name wasn't always what it is, Harry Potter. When she died, I needed to become something I wasn't at the time. A leader, an image, a name. I took her name into mine when she died, to keep it with me, to remind me, to remind everyone else who spoke my name. My last name is why I am what I am now. And your answer's in there."

It didn't take me long. Aaron Fortess. For. Tess.

"Tess," I said softly. "Lovely name."

He said nothing. I remembered what he said about the best of us and the worst of us coming out in times like these. Aaron created the best of who he could be by taking his wife's death and making it a reason, for everything he would fight for. For Tess. I looked at him in a whole new light now, and my respect for him went up a notch.

Similarly, he regarded me with a different look. He'd given me the same look when he first met me, testing my mettle against his personal scale of who was the best they could be and who was the worst they could be. He was looking at me like he was just meeting me for the first time, again.

And then it hit me.

He might just've been.

If Abe's theory was playing out, the pureblood agenda could've told him anytime in the past week. My name, the measures I've taken in the past, whatever they wanted to fill Fortess's ears with. If they had corrupted him, and that might not even be worth questioning by now, he now knew I was a wizard, and I was against the people who were helping him out. Never mind that I was here in Granford to save the Muggles, but that wasn't what Fortess would believe, not right now. I needed evidence on that, and using Nott might just be my best bet...

"I'd best get back to the meetings," Fortess said. His body language, his face, his eyes said nothing but that. He wasn't letting anything show. I schooled my features to try and do the same. "Have a good afternoon, Harry Potter."

My afternoon plan was to talk with a madman. In no way did I think it would turn out "good".

..::..-.-..::..

Leeson wasn't in the police station when I got there. The Muggle at the reception desk, a svelte woman with permanently frowning expression, needed more than a bit of badgering in order to let me in.

"But he's still locked up?" I clarified. "The prisoner, I mean."

She shrugged. "Fortess wants him here until he figures out what do with him."

"Well there's no harm if I bring him the nutritional stuff," I told her. "It's more of a herbal thing, but it'll help him keep down food for a bit. Doc Schulz said it'll be fine, and even if we don't keep the prisoner around, he still needs to be healthy."

"I don't know..."

So I Confunded her. The station wouldn't be so empty all afternoon, I needed to get in to talk to Nott as soon as possible and frankly, I didn't care for this woman, so one little Confundus wouldn't exactly _hurt_. I unlocked my way into the cells with my wand, and cast a strong Muggle-Repelling Charm around the area, as well as several alarms, anti-eavesdropping spells... the works. I intended to be completely alone for this.

Nott was sitting in the corner of his cell when I opened the door, and he watched me enter with cautious, _mad_, eyes, akin to a cat watching a mouse get closer, and closer, and...

I slammed the cell door behind me, and pointed my wand at him.

"You had a good day?" I asked. "Got some lunch yet?"

"I know you," he said, ignoring my bait. "I know something you don't know, know, know... Unless you know who _you_ are. Is that it? You know?"

"I'm well aware, Theodore."

"Theee-oh-dooor. You reminded me of _my_ name. Harry Potter. That's yours, isn't it? Har-reee Potter." Once again, I was aware of how odd he talked. He spoke with an odd cadence, emphasising the wrong syllables and words. The scratchy voice dropped out here and there, but he kept talking on anyway, the words squeaking and squealing at the back of his throat and emerging as odd choking noises. "Har-reee."

"Yes."

"No, no, no, no."

"Nott," I growled. "I want us to have a conversation, a normal conversation, without me needing to restrain you, or use potions, or..." I left the implied threat hanging.

"Torture, is it? I'll never talk, except when I do. Then torture it_..._ _is_."

I turned my wand sharply, red sparks crashing onto the floor from the gesture. Nott visibly flinched, and I felt like I had control. So, in a calm voice, I asked, "What are you doing in Granford? Who sent you?"

He scoffed. "Nobody sends _me_ anywhere. I am the Nott scion, I am the Head Boy, I am one of His favourites, I am Marked, I am, I was, I am. Do you want to see?" He lifted up his left arm, brandishing his forearm forward like a weapon. "See it? See it!"

Nott's Dark Mark, like all others, like my scar, was faded now, nothing but an outline and a memory. A memory that needed to be passed.

"When were you in Liliford, Nott?" I pressed. "When?"

"What day is it today?"

"Friday."

"It wasn't today, then."

"What happened when you were there? How did the mist get there?"

He reacted as if he'd been hit with a Cruciatas Curse, shrieking and twitching, pushing himself as far into the wall as he could, drawing blood from the side of his shoulder he banged into the concrete. "Mist!" he spat. "Choking, white, cold, everywhere, in my _eyes_, my _ears_, my _skin_. Choking me. Nothing but _mist_. They didn't tell me I'd be so _close_ to it, but I should've known!" He closed his eyes and slumped down from the wall. "Killed the man in the crimson robes, stabbed him with a knife, and he gurgled blood, crimson and warm. Last warm thing. First warm thing in a long time. _Blood_. I was on a hill, high above everything. The town, the Ford of Lillies, and mist. Spread. The mist blossomed and ebbed and flowed and multiplied until it was nothing _but_ mist, and I ran, I did, as far as I could. But they told me to go to the Ford of Gran, and I went." He opened his eyes again. "_Here_."

I swallowed down the lump in my throat. Nott gets into the town, Nott does what he has to do on the Ministry operatives inside, Nott leaves the town, Nott kills the crimson-robed Auror watchmen, his friends let the Dementors in, and there he would be, up on the hill watching the mist spread. A pang of something - not sympathy, but close enough - shot through me. Mist, choking and infusing with the skin, every soul eaten and vomited.

Then he opened his mouth again, and the sympathy just _went_, replaced by...

"They let me in. Saw me stumble in, decided to let me in like an old friend come to dinner. Isn't that nice? I thought it was nice. They talked to me, like Har-ree is talking now to Thee-oh-door, and talked, and talked. Gave me food, but it was cold. No change at all. It was a nice place, but I wasn't there long. They were all very, extremely, dead by nightfall." He smiled maliciously. "There was one, after they let me in, who knew me. One girl."

Replaced by a sinking feeling in my gut.

"There was this girl, with hair like a fallen autumn leaf. Short and a bit stocky, but I love a little meat on my girls..." He grinned at me conspiratorially. "Mudblood from our year. What was her name? All these names, so hard to keep track of... Megan. Meg-an. Mee-gan. May-gan." He licked his lips, closed his eyes and sighed, a great heaving sound of delight. "Mee-gan. I'm afraid that, in the mist, I kind of forgot... Did I taste her before I left? I don't think the cold would appreciate me eating before them, but, well, what's one taste... One feel, one... Mee-gan or Meg-an or May-gan."

Replaced with steadily rising rage.

"We talked, I think, not sure. She frowned the entire time, just like you are now, now that I think about it. She knew me, she said, and she knew I was in the place where everything was cold. No, not home, no not the Ford of Lilies - this was after one and before the other, or maybe before one and after the other. I don't know. We talked, and she said she was willing to let me go. To let me live a new life in the Ford of Lilies. She wouldn't report me to the Ministry." He chuckled hysterically. "Some people are just so trusting, so, _so_, so, trusting. She was a Hufflepuff. Trusting morons, the lot of them. No wonder I killed her." He frowned. "I think. I dunno. Either way, what's one more Mudblood to the pile? Kill them, the Muggles next, and there's nothing but the best."

Replaced by nothing _but_rage.

Every instinct told me he was being honest. Mad, but honest. And Megan, and him killing her, and with what happened next with the Dementors and...

I was right. He had been sent to destroy Liliford. And if he did that, he was here for the same reason. I was right in the worst way possible.

"Who sent you?" I asked quietly, an edge to my voice that sounded dangerous to my own ears. "Nott, who put you here?"

"We've been talking," he said as if I hadn't already known. "Who do you _think_?"

"Then why are you being so forthcoming?"

He shrugged. His face was clearer than it had ever been, an insidious air about him replacing the pathetic, insane, man that had been banging his head against the wall like a house elf. "What would you plan to do? You can't stop me, you can't stop them. The cold is coming for the Ford of Gran. I'm bringing it."

Not if I could fucking help it.

I whipped my wand and thick black cords sprung into existence, wrapping Nott's arms and ankles together and forcing him into a prone position on the ground. I got up closer to him, and stared him down with a hard, menacing, look.

"Do you know what I've been up to in the past few years? While you've been in Azkaban, I've been studying up to become a Healer. A saver of lives, a healer of wounds..." I laughed bitterly. "But since there's no saving _you, _I feel the need to forget what I am, but not what I've learnt. I know a lot about the human body, and its threshold for pain. I know what magic can do, how much pain it can put people in. Things I couldn't even imagine, unlimited amounts of pain and discomfort, and the body can be kept alive by magic, suspended for as long as you'd want... I learnt a lot of Healing magic over the last few years, and even more ways to hurt people with the same spells."

I rolled my wand between my fingertips. "Do you need some examples? First up, you ever need a broken bone reset by Madam Pomfrey? She does it with a wave of her wand, and with the help of a spell colloquially known as the Bone Setter. It sets the bone how you want it to be set. If the bone was dislocated, one flick and point and then it cracks back in place. But, say, use the spell on an unbroken bone, one in its usual spot... Direct it right and..." A horrible _crack_ sound erupted from my wand's tip. "And then there's the Lock Jaw. We use this one on patients who are unconscious, or patients who won't cooperate, to get their potions into their systems as quickly as possible. As the name might describe, it locks the jaw in place, wide open, wider than you'd ever think your own jaw could go. You can't move your jaw with that spell, at all. It's a bit uncomfortable, but bearable. At first. Then, as minutes go by, and the aching begins, and your control over something so simple like moving your mouth becomes impossible... How long would it take before you tried closing it forcefully, slamming it down on something _hard_?" I reached back and tapped my wand against the cell's bars. "Then there's the Cool Gel, another great name I know, but it's a right useful spell. It fills the back of your throat with a slick, cool, and minty, substance. It's used to stop people vomiting up potions right away - all they'd be able to taste is the cool mint gel. But, there's some potions that break through the charm, and I could pour one down your throat. It would burn your throat to ash. You wouldn't feel it at first because of the gel, but then when you take _one_ swallow, it'll be agony. Pure, burning, pain. Oh, but the next swallow would be worse, and the next, and the next..."

Nott didn't say anything; he just watched with those same dark eyes. The clarity from earlier had dripped off of him as I'd continued talking, and he was looking at me like I was a vicious animal caged in with him, and he had no intention of losing the ensuing fight.

"There's more, too," I told him quietly. "A spell we learnt that cauterises nerve endings. A spell that'd turn your limbs into boneless lumps. Then one that can cut tiny incisions anywhere on your body, inside or out. One we use to force a feverish flush through the body. Shall I go on?"

Nott smirked. "She, the Mudblood, said something before she died. What was it, again? She was screaming it, and I _should_ remember -"

I don't remember breaking his arm, but I certainly remember looking down at the blood splattering on the ground, and seeing the bone sticking up through Nott's shoulder at an angle. Nott started screaming, at the injury, at me, at whatever voices he heard in his head.

"Granford's next, is it?" I growled. "You can't do shit to this place if I don't just _gut you like a pig_ right here in this cell."

"Then do it," Nott grunted. "Come on."

"It won't be fast, I promise you that -"

_"Harry!"_ a sharp voice barked.

I turned and found myself face to face with Neville. His face was pale and his wand was in his hand, pressed next to his leg. The scars on his cheeks seemed to darken on his pale visage.

"What the hell are you doing?" he demanded, flicking his wand just an inch to unlock the door to the cell. He pulled it outward and stepped into the cell with us. "Harry, leave it."

I snorted. "Leave it, really? I'm finally doing _something_, Nev."

"And if that's what they want you to do?" Neville asked. "Would his death solve anything? Susan left me a message in the dropbox, Harry. She said you were going to get something out of him to help arrest the purebloods, remember?"

"Yes." I spat the word.

"Then why are you forgetting that, huh? Why are you acting completely _mad_ right now?" Neville's wand twitched in his hand. "Why are you acting like you did after we got out of St Mungo's?"

The fire in my belly tapered off, the flames doused by something settling into my bones, my body, my mind. Tiredness seeped into me, and I slumped against the wall. "I think the Pepper-Up just wore off," I murmured.

Back at Malfoy Manor, I'd used fire to kill a zombie Malfoy had chained to his study roof. I don't know why I used fire. Tiredness, stress, an urge for _something_ to rush out of me. It all had built up and broken loose, every tiny strain and crack on my psyche, unleashed in a single moment. Similarly, now, with no sleep and even more stress weighing down on my mind, I hurt Nott. He deserved it, there's no question, but my own bloodthirsty attitude shocked me.

"Come on," Neville said encouragingly. "We need to regroup and think about this some more. Did he tell you anything useful?"

Useful. If he meant the babblings of a madman, the words of a murdering psychopath, then yes. Nothing _but_ useful, Nott was.

"He destroyed Liliford, I'm sure of it," I said. "Here for the same, no doubt, but you might be right about him being a distraction, or something... I doubt he'll tell us anything about who specifically sent him here. Veritaserum won't work if he's been Obliviated, and I'm not a good enough Legilimens to risk going into _that_." I sighed. "Regroup. Right. Come on."

I fixed Nott's arm before we left, cleaned the blood off the floor, vanished the conjured ropes, and left him only a little more ruffled than when I'd entered.

"I'll be back," I promised him as Neville locked the cell door. "Trust me."

"Look forward to it," said Nott. "Har-reeee."

..::..-.-..::..

"It's so pretty," said Ellie Ogden, as we stared up at the tree-covered sky together.

"Almost calming," I muttered. "Almost."

As much as I had wanted to go straight to sleep after my encounter with Nott, Neville had reminded me that I was needed at Ogdens's first, and there I went, drained from the day's events, the lack of sleep truly catching up to me. But I kept pushing on anyway, because the Ogdens needed me, and I still had two more places I wanted to go before the day was done, while I had the chance.

So I found myself standing next to Ellie in the mud by her family's cottage, watching the Fidellius Charm get erected in front of our eyes. I knew that casting most wards did not include a free lightshow, but the nature of the Fidellius, complex as it was, let everybody know exactly how complex it was. Bright colours lit up the sky within the dome the charm was taking up - around the hill and cottage. The colour had started purple, with swirls of amber swimming through, leaving trails of smoke behind. The purple had morphed into thick lines laced with red, the lines criss-crossing and cross-crissing into each other and out, dancing in the sky as the amber swirls turned into dark blue spirals, whirling through the lines and creating gusts of greens, reds and blues. The gust swept over the sky and left nothing but purple in its wake, and the process began anew, each time adding a new colour, a new shape or sequence, to the glowing pattern in the sky

"It _is _kinda pretty," I admitted after a second, and Ellie giggled. The sound made me smile. "Your mother's glaring at me, by the way."

"I can feel the eyes from here," Ellie said with a mock shiver.

I laughed, and it felt like the first of many. After here I was going to visit Astoria, and I intended to finish off the afternoon in Malfoy Manor's library. I hadn't felt it before, but Nott had only been brought into Granford six hours ago. Six very long hours, if I were being honest.

"She doesn't care for me keeping your family's secret," I said. "Not trustworthy, and all that. Never mind the wards haven't been touched since I scared the last guy off, but how dare your mother admit that she's _wrong_."

Ellie giggled again. "You're incorrigible."

"And you're both going to catch colds," Gladys Ogden, Ellie's grandmother, called out from a distance. She was standing in the doorway of the cottage, while Amaris glared at us through the kitchen window.

"Warming Charm, Grandma," Ellie called back to her. "Harry's good at them."

"We should go in anyway," I told her, pointing up to the sky. The last gust of kaleidoscopic colour was sweeping over, but it wasn't leaving behind the purple trail - the charm was finished. "Quicker than I thought," I mused.

The Chief Warlock had gone all out by getting three warders to work on casting the charm in the first place, and getting them within two days spoke of his influence and gold on hand. This was my first Fidellius Charm casting I'd been present for, and the tingling in the back of my head was becoming more and more evident: I knew the secret, I was the only one who could tell people where the Ogden family lived. The tingling disappeared after the charm was cast, replaced with a heavy weight of sorts.

Ellie and I walked back to the cottage and were ushered inside by Gladys, who brought us into the dining room to warm up in front of the fireplace. Amaris came in then, frowning. "Is it done then?" she asked.

I nodded at her, but said nothing else.

"You can stay for dinner!" Ellie exclaimed suddenly. "I mean, if you want."

"I would love to, but I can't," I told her gently, right before Amaris's "No!" broke everyone's eardrums. "I'll be back to check up on you by the weekend, though, so don't worry."

Ellie quickly tried to hide her disappointment, while Gladys looked concerned. "And you would need to check up on us, why?"

"Just to make sure, ma'am," I said respectfully because hey, I liked the older gal. "The Fidellius is the best we got, but there's no such thing as a foolproof ward. My own parents died because somebody betrayed their Secret."

Ellie flinched, and Amaris looked triumphant. "So we're all depending on you, are we? Is there no reason we can't have my father, or us, keeping the Secret? We shouldn't have to rely on him."

"There are other ways the ward can be gotten around," I said, plowing on and not giving Amaris the satisfaction. "The Aurors are still outside the ward boundary, remember, because they have to be. Just because your exact location is hidden doesn't mean that they don't remember the area around here. From there, somebody could Imperius one of the Aurors, make them cry out for help and get you out there... Maybe they could realise that Gladys delivers breakfast to them every morning, get to her when she doesn't expect it... You all need to know that this is just another stopgap solution. Nothing more."

The ladies said nothing.

"But I'll be back," I said, looking at Ellie specifically. She nodded back to me, smiling, beckoningly and invitingly all in one move of her full lips. I didn't say goodbye; just walked out, out of the cottage, down the trail, nodding to the Auror on guard, and disapparating away from a rainy hill to the gates of Malfoy Manor.

Astoria was the one to open the door, her hair loose and down to her shoulders, her smile wide and dimples showing in full force. "Harry," she said softly, and she added what she always did, a ritual of ours, "Draco's not home."

I grinned at her, and we were soon absconded to our usual spot in the library. My presence in her secluded spot was slowly becoming regular, and it was showing here and there; my usual chair beside hers had a cushion, the last book I'd been reading was sitting on the table, and a platter of sandwiches and juice was there for both of us to devour - sorry, for me to devour and for her to eat daintily as a proper lady should, of course. All I have to say is that she ate more sandwiches than me an hour into our reading session.

"I have not!" she protested, laughing, her face flushed with it.

"Yuh huh," I said with a chuckle. "So what were talking about?"

"Hmm? Oh, Theodore Nott." Astoria stretched back in seat, arms up over her head and her upper torso moving in a _very_ interesting way. "No, I don't know him, but I know he was friends with Draco, and -" She laughed again. "I remember Daph going on, and _on,_ about him trying to get with her back in sixth year. But he got arrested after the war, so no, I've never met him."

"Has your husband seen him at all lately? Or mentioned, or...?"

Astoria shook her head. "I heard about what happened to Azkaban when the Dementors broke free. I doubt he survived that."

Little did she know. I don't know why I asked her about Nott, maybe to see if Draco had let something slip, maybe to hear anything at all... But if she wasn't struggling to get around any of her husband's bindings, it was a sure thing that she didn't know anything. Asking made me feel like I was using her for information again, but since she hadn't realised it yet, it would probably be for the best if we just ignored it and moved on.

But then she bit her lip. "Wait, there was something... This was just after I heard about St Mungo's... I remember my father talking with somebody in our Floo. I think they wanted to go to Azkaban personally to do something. I don't know, maybe take advantage of the chaos..."

"You mean break some people out?" I asked, interest piqued. "Some of their old friends?"

"Daddy kept mentioning Lucius Malfoy, so maybe. But I don't think anything came of it, especially from my father. We, uh, heard about Daph and the Ministry about an hour later, so... Dad got busy securing our future, and I was married to Draco by the end of the week."

I never met Astoria's father, so I didn't know whether or not selling his daughter off was a good idea at the time or not. Considering that she spent a year locked up in Malfoy Manor, I'm going to guess her father wasn't going to be winning any parenting awards anytime soon. Maybe.

I thought about the timeline that happened over a year ago, musing, "St Mungo's was lost, and then the Ministry, and we heard about Azkaban sometime in the aftermath..." I didn't remember much after the lockdown, for obvious reasons, but... "If Nott got broken out as Azkaban began to fall, or if he got picked up just after he walked out, how big of a debt would he owe to whoever got him out?"

"A big one. They save his life, his sanity..."

Well, the former, anyway. I nodded.

"So why are you asking about Nott?" Astoria asked curiously, peering up at me with blue eyes.

"Because..." I considered explaining it all, but I stopped that thought before I could start. Despite everything, she was still technically my enemy in this conflict, and we were already struggling to forget the Wizengamot politics and stay friendly. So I hedged. "He's become relevant with events lately. With the Wizengamot."

Her soft, "Oh", made me certain she understood why I didn't elaborate.

We read in silence for another few minutes. My book was about olden day healing techniques - magical leeches and stuff - and the words seemed to lose all meaning between page and my brain, distracted as I was by Astoria's soft breathing as she read. It was then I noticed she hadn't turned the page in her book for longer than she should've been, and when I looked up, she was staring into space.

"Harry," she said, "I don't want Granford to be destroyed."

I tried not to let out a triumphant little shout. _She_ broached it, not me. _She_ was concerned. There was hope left.

"I know what I said about my family's views towards Muggles, but I don't want them all dead. Not now. _Especially_ not now."

"You know I won't let that happen," I said forcefully. "I'll stop who I have to stop." I reached forward and grasped her hand in mine, and lowered my voice to a gentle, calming kind of tone, "You do understand your husband might be one of those people, don't you?" Her hand almost flinched out of my grip, but I held fast. "If he turns his coat and helps out like he did in the end with Voldemort, he won't be persecuted. I can swing that, trust me."

"I know," she said. "_I know_." Astoria closed her eyes and exhaled a breath of air, pushing it up through her chest and out her mouth, all her doubts and fears in one little breath. "I do want to help, but I can't. When I get appointed to the Wizengamot, my vote will go with my husband's, and he will go with the others, Selwyn, Parkinson, all of them."

"Well _I_ know that, Astoria, and I won't blame you for sticking by your husband."

"But now I want to help _you_, Harry. Even if I vote against the bill, I still want you to know that."

"Then you can help me, however you can. Whatever you're comfortable with. You can wear your husband down and I can get him to rethink things. You could get something, a name, a link to something I haven't considered... If you want to help, you can help."

"But if I get caught?" We locked gazes for a moment - she looked afraid, very afraid. "What happens then?"

"I save you," I said instantly, because there was never any doubt in my mind. "We can protect you, no, _I_ can protect you. Get you away from here. Get you a place at St Mungo's, and I'll be there to help you, like I promised. If you get out before the vote, you could do what _you_ want to do, to vote to save the Muggles."

She didn't immediately refute the idea, but she tried not to look like she was considering it too hard.

"You don't have to make any decisions today," I told her quietly, giving her hand one last squeeze before letting go. The warmth slowly disappeared after I withdrew, a muted tingle going down my spine. "But I should get going, Astoria. Leave you to think."

Disappointment flashed over her features for an instant, but she fought it off her face and replaced with a warm smile. "Draco's out to a dinner with Harper, and won't be back for a few more hours... You could stay for dinner with me."

It was tempting. Very tempting. My second dinner invitation of the night, and if it was just me alone with Astoria... As pleasant as it sounded, a foreign thought entering my mind suddenly made me uncomfortable, especially since she'd mentioned Malfoy in the same sentence.

"I haven't slept in a few days, Astoria," I said to start, "A very stressful couple of days. I was in a pretty bad mood before I came here, and you've calmed me, but... If I stay I'd probably end up talking more politics with you. I'd do everything I did not set out to do by coming here. I need to calm myself down some more and get as much as sleep as I can before things go to hell again." I smiled at her to soften the blow. "Sorry, but I have to go."

"You could stay calm here," she insisted. "You just said you were calmed by me, by all this... So just stay. No politics talk, just us."

But I was shaking my head, even though every instinct told me to accept her offer. "I have a spot where I think these things over. Haven't been there in a while, and... You know I'll be back. Tomorrow, if I can. The meeting's on Sunday, and while I have a few of our fellow Wizengamot members to juggle, I'll make time for you."

That's all there was to say. I left her alone with her books and her husband's manor.

I was halfway down the trail back to the gates when I realised that I shouldn't have left. Something changed, I think, and in my want for sleep I'd missed it completely. Something in Astoria's expression as she watched me go made me pause...

I was all the way back down to the gates and watching them swing open for me when I realised how to salvage the day's events and go to my special spot in one visit.

..::..-.-..::..

From on top of this hill, I could see the past, the present and the future all at once. Off in the horizon, the sun was setting and bringing the night, and I turned away from the orange light when it began to burn through my glasses. The hill was grassy and windswept, peaceful as a spot of plain could be, overlooking the area of Ottery St Catchpole. The past I could see in the destroyed houses in the distance - the Burrow, collapsed in on itself in the outbreak, the Lovegood rook, burned by Death Eaters right after the war with Luna and her father trapped inside, and a half a dozen Muggle farms devoid of life of any kind. The present was a gathering of tents and houses bunched around the old Catchpole market, alight with bustling wizards and Muggles working together to spread their meagre rations to those living in The Burrows. And for the future there was farmland cleared out and fenced, and the foundations of several dozen houses waiting on some wandwork to erect the houses fully. Bill's idea, to create homes for when we ingrained the Muggles after the bill passed. Even if the bill failed, he'd still gather all those he could and put them in those houses and those farms, turning The Burrows into a sanctuary, a haven, the best place our world would offer.

The thought brought a smile to my face. I wanted to be there building those houses someday, after all this was over. I wanted to be there in The Burrows, being a proper godfather for Teddy, living and laughing with the surviving Weasleys... And now I wanted Astoria there, outside of her manor, laughing in the sun, and putting her Healing skills to the test on anybody and everybody who needed it. That was a future I wanted to see.

But the image was gone, flickering and flashing out of my head as soon as it came. I left the hill behind and headed for the isolated little cottage that had survived all the wars.

When the door opened, a rush of warm air and the fragrance of a cooking meal, inviting and enticing, hit me, and I found myself smiling at Amos Diggory.

"Harry," he said, surprised, but reaching out to grasp my hand anyway. We shook in a friendly, familiar, sort-of way, and his eyes were curious as they searched my expression. "You don't look so good," he said honestly.

"Don't feel it, either."

He chuckled. "I see. Well come in, won't you? You're here for our talk, are you? Did you want to have it over dinner, or...? My wife could spare a little extra -"

Third time's the charm, and I refused the dinner invitation. I thought about Amos's wife, who I last remember seeing crying in her husband's arms, a slip of a woman completely devastated by her son's death. I didn't feel like dealing with her; Amos would be hard enough.

"I was wondering if we could go for a walk," I said, "There's something I want you to see. It's... important, for what I have to say to you."

Amos raised a curious eyebrow. "I'll grab my cloak. Excuse me a moment."

When he returned, he gestured for me to lead, and I did. We set out from his house, heading up and down a few hills, the sun heading steadily into the horizon as we walked.

"The Fawcetts lived down this path," Amos said after a few minutes.

"Yeah, I know. Sarah showed me."

"Sarah Fawcett." Amos's lips quirked in a little smile of remembrance. "Did you know that she and Cedric were playmates? Lovegood's daughter was too young, and while the Weasleys were always lovely, the twins were too outgoing and Percy wasn't outgoing enough. My wife went over to Delia Fawcett's for tea every other day, and took Ced with her. I came every now and then, when I had the time to, and I remember this one time when Ced was about eight... He was always outgoing, always off on an adventure, and dragged Sarah along with him. She huffed and puffed and complained, but I remember her telling her mother that all her other friends were more into dolls and not the fun things, like Ced was. But this one day, this one day I was there and sipping Butterbeer with Jason Fawcett as he bounced his youngest on his knee... Sarah and Ced raced each other to this old oak tree off on this hill. Halfway up Sarah tripped over, and before we could all go make sure she was all right, Ced was there, and he picked her up and said they'd finish together, because her tripping over meant things weren't _fair_, and Ced wouldn't take advantage of that. Eight years old, and he was a Hufflepuff right from the start."

I didn't say anything; I didn't allow myself to _think_ anything. Because there it was, from the mouth of a heartbroken man, one who survived all but one of the people he mentioned in his story. Sarah and Cedric. Back in the times before they ever met Harry Potter, and died because of it.

"You remember that oak tree on the hill?" I asked after a moment. "That's where we're going."

The Fawcett house had been burned like the Lovegood's, but thankfully the entire family hadn't been inside at the time. Sarah's mother, her father and her little sister survived for another few years until the outbreak hit, and well, with that the entire Fawcett family was lost, along with so many others. All that remained of the house was ash and ruin, and Amos sucked in a breath as he took it in.

"Up past here," I reminded him, gently pushing him forward. "You remember it."

We traced a path from the back of the house up the hill, pushing through the long and yellowed grass, the blades cutting at my ankles, ruffled and disturbed by our presence and letting their displeasure be known. Looking over at Amos gave me the distinct feeling he was tracing his son's footsteps as he and Sarah ran up this hill, and his smile from earlier had turned to sadness, his face lined and old and strained under the returning grief. It came back to you, grief, and it always hit just as hard as the first time. For Amos, it was the night of the Third Task all over again.

The sturdy oak that sat on the hill was a sight to behold, a vision of time eternal from ages gone by, a great sentinel watching the Ottery St Catchpole through the past, the present, and into the future. It looked like it was immortal, standing there ravaged by time and tested in every which way possible. The great tree's calming allure was what drew me to the place, made me want to sit under its twisting branches and just think. My usual seat had my back against the tree and facing towards The Burrows, watching the future unfold. With that in mind, I'd placed my memorial stones just before where I'd usually sit.

Amos flinched as we got to the top of the hill. "Wards," he murmured. "I felt wards."

"I like my private places private," I told him, circling around the little stones jutting out of the earth. They were all even, smooth rock, pure white in colour with tiny little identifiers marking them - a horned stag, a lily, a full moon over a rainbow, a hunched dog, a book and quill, a badger, a radish, a weasel, and the last rock held the St Mungo's insignia, a bone and a wand crossed. They were set in a semicircular formation, spreading out around my feet. "Sometimes I don't really know why I put these here. I've never been to half these people's actual graves... But I made this little place to think, to remind myself..."

"Who are they?"

"Those that I've lost. Those I couldn't save. I'm not deluded enough to think I could've actually saved most of them, but at the same time I don't want to have to add another stone up here. Because I have to ask myself when there'll be too many stones for me to handle." I avoided Amos's gaze and began to point to each stone in turn. "My parents, Sirius, Remus and Tonks, all the Weasleys - Molly, Arthur, Charlie, Percy, Fred - and, um, Luna, and then Herm -" I swallowed thickly, my voice croaking out, "_Hermione_, and there's your son's, right there... Next to... Sarah's."

I reached over with my foot and kicked a pebble away into the distance. "That'd be Hunt's; he was my old mentor. He wasn't big on sentimentality but... A pebble works." Nearby, a bird shat on the old oak's tree branch, and I snorted. "And that's how I'll remember Snape."

"So why have you brought me here, Harry?" Amos asked softly, staring at the crude badger etched on the stone that was his son's.

"It calms me, this tree, these stones..." I looked out into the distance, spotting a lake sitting in a forest just beside The Burrows. The lake Ron talked about, the one he wanted to take Megan to. "I need to be calm right now, after everything that's happened in the past few days, the past few weeks, and months, the whole last year... So now that I'm calm, and after I get some sleep, I can plan my next move. How to thwart those looking to destroy Granford. How to save a friend in need. How to juggle, and how to balance, the Wizengamot and everything else."

"But why am _I_ here?"

"Because Cedric, your son, was the first. My parents died for me, and they deserve a spot up here on this hill too, but I didn't know them. I knew Cedric, not as well as I would've liked, but he died in front of my eyes. He was truly the first, the catalyst, one I couldn't save, and... I wanted you here to see this because out of everybody else who's vote I need, you are the only one that needs to know about this hill. Because of your son, because of the fact you need to understand that because of his death, I'm doing what I do now. Do you get why I'd want to save the Muggles?"

"Of course I do," he said immediately, snapping his head up and down. "And you don't even have to ask, Harry. My vote was always yours. I never resented that you survived and Ced died, and do you know why? It's because you brought his body back to us. When Fudge started slandering you about You-Know-Who being back, I never doubted you were lying because _you brought my son back_. And you didn't have to. But you did. And that's all there is to it."

Relief flooded through me like a warm wave, and although the sheer fatigue I was feeling was still there, there was a trill of accomplishment, of the job done. One vote to my side. Just one, but it felt like a million, and it felt like I'd already won. There was nothing else now. Just this little victory at the end of the tunnel.

"Thank you," I said sincerely. "I'm... grateful, Amos. For everything."

He smiled warmly, and nodded his head toward the direction of his home. I offered to walk him back, and as we were heading down the hill, it was near dark, the sky's reddish tint fading into a dark purple, partially obscured by the night clouds.

But, when we arrived at the top of a hill along the trail, a light caught my eye. It was orange and red, a flame painted on the dark canvas of the horizon. When my eyes traced the flame, when my mind caught up to where it was coming from, then my mouth dropped.

The Burrows.

Amos stopped walking and turned on the spot, following my gaze. "Harry, what -"

A ethereal stream of white light glided up the hill, soaring through the grass and circling around our legs. Wispy white tendrils of light formed into a shape, then another, until it finally became a familiar-looking badger with a thick tail. Susan's Patronus. "Harry," her voice announced, coming out of the badger's mouth in a rush. "The Burrows are under attack!"

And there went my plan for the night.

..::..-.-..::..

_To Be Continued in Chapter Seven: Instinct..._

..::..-.-..::..

Post-Chapter Notes:

_- Next Chapter Tease ::_ The Burrows are under attack, and Harry teams up with Wizengamot member Isaac Aquilla to stop various forces from destroying the town for good. One of those forces are zombies. Things go off the chain now. Strap yourselves in.

_- Wizengamot Scorecard ::_ Updated, as of this chapter:

- _Pro-Disclosure_ :: Harry, Neville, Susan, Antioch Boot, Brown, Patil, Hart, Diggory.

- _Anti-Disclosure_ :: Malfoy, Parkinson, Bulstrode, Selwyn, Gale, Harper, Burke.

- _Swing Votes_ :: MacMillan, Smith, Zabini, Aquilla, Cuffe.

- _Former Members ::_ Bill Weasley (Resigned).

- _Member Count ::_ Twenty.

- _Status ::_ Evenstalled.

- _Pending Members _:: Astoria Malfoy (Greengrass seat).

Thanks for reading!

..::..-.-..::..


	7. Chapter Seven: Instinct

_Standard Disclaimer_ _::_ All things Harry Potter belong to JK Rowling and affiliates. This fanfiction is a non-profit venture written for the enjoyment of myself and my readers.

_Dedication :: _To KaiDASH, Seratin, Lutris, Zeitgeist, Vira and my friends from DLP, for putting up with my insanity, for reading early drafts, and just being there. Also, to all those who reviewed/favourited/alerted me or my story here on FFnet, cheers. Props to DLP for the feedback, too - anyone reading this who hasn't devoured their C2 on this very site must do so now. It's the first community on the list, for a damn good reason.

And a very special thank you and shoutout to the reviewers here on this site who have reviewed for every chapter. So props to Vitrify, lunaticxxx, ceo55 and Melnivone.

_Preface :: _A few reviewers on DLP were quick to point out that my chosen number for the remaining wizarding population was too low - about a thousand - and given how things go in this chapter I've been inclined to agree. I've retroactively edited bits of my previous chapters to move the population up another thousand and some change, and the Muggles get a few extra hundred to balance out too. But yeah, just a head's up that from now on, the wizarding population is over two thousand instead of over one thousand. Cool? Sorry that I had to do that, but much like JKR, I suck at numbers, so yay.

_Previously :: _Harry and his friends quickly rallied to discover all they could on the newest arrival in Granford, Theodore Nott, especially after the reveal that Nott was in Liliford, and was responsible for paving a path to its destruction. Meanwhile, Stanthorpe was sent out to check on Liliford and Aaron Fortess revealed his name's meaning to Harry, all the while assessing his nature after learning that he was in fact a wizard. Soon after, Harry, tired after a few days lacking proper sleep, almost killed Nott in a fit of rage, quickly brought down to earth by Neville, the latter citing the as-yet-unexplained St Mungo's lockdown, over a year ago, as an indicator of how Harry was reacting. Harry took the chance to leave Granford and seek support with Astoria, learning that her own misgivings about her husband's activities are starting to catch up, and that she wants to join Harry's side. Harry left her to mull over it some more before going out and securing Amos Diggory's vote on the upcoming Wizengamot vote, but the joy was short lived with the announcement that The Burrows, home of Bill Weasley and Harry's godson Teddy, was under attack.

..::..-.-..::..

_Chapter Seven of Sixteen: Instinct_

..::..-.-..::..

I apparated directly in front of a burning house. I pushed through the ward boundary and immediately felt the heat from the nearby flames wash over my face, scorching and searing my skin and making my eyes water and sting. The feeling brought back memories, of events awake and in nightmares, of a burning hospital trapping me in with the flames, pushing and burning and constrictingevery movement with thick, billowing black smoke. St Mungo's had burned that day, only a little over a year ago, and now The Burrows were burning. The Burrows are under attack, Susan had said, but I hadn't heard from her since. Amos Diggory was heading for the Ministry to get extra help, but I was on my own here; I had to be in the thick of it, especially with all the lives at stake. My godson lived here with Andromeda at the Weasleys, and dammit all if I'm not going to walk through fire to save him and all of them too if I have to.

I spotted two figures on the grass as I approached the house, one of them sprawled out and not moving, the other crouching beside, his wand in his hand and waving over the body.

My Healer instincts kicked in and I bounded forward. "Leave it!" I called. "I'm a Healer, okay, and whatever you're doing might make it worse!"

The man stopped and snapped his wand up to point at me. Now that I was closer I could make out his features illuminated by the flaming wreckage at his back. His hair was auburn, long and shaggy, and he had impossibly broad shoulders for his skinny frame. This would have to be the first time I'd seen Isaac Aquilla outside of meetings, and he looked more comfortable in jeans and a T-shirt than the ostentatious plum robes of the Wizengamot. Recognition hit his face the same time it hit mine. "Harry? Harry Potter?"

"Move," I ordered, kneeling on the grass beside him. The unconscious person was a woman with dark hair and I didn't know her; she was just a patient now. She was alive, that much was evident by the unsteady rise and fall of her chest. My Diagnostic Charm told me the problem immediately. "Smoke inhalation."

"I think she hit her head too," Aquilla said, his face worried. "She's one of my neighbours, and when I saw her house on fire I came to check, and got her out. I kept trying to revive her -"

"_Enervate_ won't work here," I told him calmly. "And my spell said she's not concussed, so we focus on the lungs first. I need a moment." I used my left hand to push on her chest, letting her body do the rest. Her mouth opened and she exhaled a breath of smoke. "Hold her down, by the shoulders." Aquilla rushed to comply, and watched with wide eyes as I stuck my wand at the tip of her lips and a conjured up a thick jet of blue liquid to pour down and stick to the back of her throat. "This will stop it burning on the way up - it's all down her trachea now. Won't hurt her or anything. Okay..." I cast a glance at Aquilla. "Make sure she stays still for this."

I hadn't done something like this in a while, even recreationally believe it or not. My wand hand was steady, though, and all my hours of tutelage under Pomfrey, Hunt and everyone else in between came rushing back, reminding me over and over, the right spell, the right wand movement, the subtleties of the magic... I focused on that, not on the fire blazing on the grass, bringing back a whole new set of memories and experiences not worth remembering...

I stuck my wand in the woman's mouth, murmured the spell's incantation, and _pulled_. There was no other way to describe it; the spell was invisible and inaudible, and worked on nothing but feel. I felt myself reaching down and grasping something wispy and immaterial, something that wasn't even supposed to be caught. And I pulled out. Pulled the magic, pulled my wand, and just _pulled_. Time seemed to slow as grey smoke emerged from the woman's mouth, sizzling a trail through the air and to the tip of my withdrawn wand. The smoke coalesced and formed into a ball the size of a Quaffle, and the night air compressed it, going from Quaffle to Bludger to Snitch to nothing in a matter of seconds.

Time sped up again as a gush of flame sparked off the house and missed Aquilla's head by inches, the flaming beacon in the night reminding us that yes, it was still there, and yes, it was still on fucking fire.

"_Mobilcorpus_," I said with a little flourish of my wand, and the woman, now breathing normally yet still unconscious, floated above in the air as directed by my wand. "You're a licensed portkey creator, right?"

Aquilla nodded. "Yeah, how did you know?"

"I just do. Look, do I have to go past the ward boundary to portkey?"

"Yeah, it's the same for all over, except the market, for convenience's sake."

I stood, and he did the same. "Make a portkey to the new St Mungo's, and take her there now. I have to check on the rest of the town." The woman floated beside us as we walked briskly back over the boundary line, Aquilla creating a portkey out of one of her shoes as we did.

"Never seen you like that," he said to me. "In your element."

"Guess it shows I'm not the best Wizengamot player, eh?"

He shook his head. "You've never been _that_ intense at the meetings. The portkey's good to go, too."

"Okay, now the Ministry probably already knows about the attack, but you gotta -"

Isaac Aquilla slapped the portkey down on the woman, activated it with a wave of his wand, and watched as she disappeared in a flash of blue light. I was too busy watching him in surprise to stop him. "This is my town, Harry. I'm going to help you save it."

A notch of respect for him went up in my book. "Good. Thanks, Aquilla."

He gestured over his shoulder to the burning house. "I think, given the circumstances, you can just call me Isaac."

"Gotcha." I grinned at him. "All right, we gotta stop this fire, first and foremost -"

"I already tried," said Isaac. "Water spells didn't work."

That made me frown and examine the burning building from our safe distance all the more. The flames were eating it alive, but they weren't forming any visible shape, or lashing out uncontrollably. Not Fiendfyre, then. But I still had to try, so my wand spurted a burst of water directly at the flames, and under my control the jet of water turned into a perfect spiral, circling the house, and pushing in -

- and the water just evaporated on it. And, when I tried again, it did the same. Literally, none of the flames went down. Nor did they even twitch at the mud I conjured, the gust of wind, another burst of water and a mix of all three. The final spell I tried was a simple _Finite_, which again, did nothing.

Magical fire wasn't exactly uncommon, but I knew only one flame that stayed burning forever like that. "There's no way that's Gubraithian Fire," I said in disbelief. "Everlasting Flame? It would've taken a while to even conjure, and to use it now... Shit, we need to get going, and fast. If this stuff's on the rest of the town..."

"Then they could be fighting some losing battles," finished Isaac tersely. "Now we go."

And go we did, circling around the everburning ruin, which had hidden another few houses from view. Isaac pointed his out and said, "I was having dinner when I heard the commotion from the town. Everyone around me evacuated, but I went to get Jane - that woman you saved. I don't know about the rest of the town."

The trail from the half-dozen houses bunched together led up a dusty incline, and from the top of it we could see all of The Burrows, especially the burning parts.

The market square, a large patch of grass bordered by concrete stalls and room for plenty more, was completely alight, and figures darting back and forth in the distance, trying to contain the flames. From around the square grew the rest of the town, houses bunched together in little pods like Aquilla's and his neighbours, each pod having been built as time went along, and progression started from the inside out, the furthest away being right on the border of the ward boundary line. The pod where Bill, his family, George, Ginny, and Andromeda and Teddy lived was ringed by trees just beyond the market, and only one of the houses was burning. It didn't look like Bill's, but it still wasn't the best of signs.

We pounded down the hill, Aquilla and I, pushing into a throng of wizards ineffectually trying to douse the flames on their homes. "It's Everlasting Fire!" I called at them. "Save what you can before everything burns!"

A few of the wizards seemed to follow my advice and gave up, running for their lives towards the ward boundary to their east, indicated by the edge of the trees just before the farms. The other wizards continued their efforts to stop the fire, right up until a great creaking sound drowned out the crackling flames enough to get everyone's attention. Startled cries and shouts went up and were muffled in the sound of the house's roof collapsing inwards, taking down the rest of the place in a great inferno of flame, smoke and noise. One man, thick and bearded, cried out as shrapnel sliced across his arm, and I found myself there before I realised, running my wand up and down the wound. A bright flash of white light began to stitch it together, and I turned away and let the magic do its thing.

The other wizards, six in all, were standing around with gormless expressions, and I snapped at them, "Don't try to fight what's already lost. Lives can't be rebuilt, so get out of here!"

"Easy for you to say," one of the wizards snapped back. "This fire is fucking everywhere, and there's dozens of those things still walking around."

Oh dammit. "What _things_?"

A familiar dull and droning moan echoed in the fire-choked night air. Isaac jumped beside me and turned his wand, pointing it to the three figures shambling in the shadows of the flames blanketing a high-storied hodgepodge home. The moaning and groaning, the shambling and shuffling, the walking and hungry dead.

"'Ow the 'ell did those blighters get 'ere?" the wizard I was healing demanded, stepping away from me and bringing his wand around to bear, not at all impeded by the recently healed over cut. He didn't even thank me, either, but I had bigger concerns now.

"Good question," I said. "How did they get out here? No way we could've not seen them coming."

"They showed up in the square," the first wizard explained, scowling. "Portkey'd right in, if you can believe that."

Aquilla had said those wards _were_ down in the market, so it was entirely possible that... Dammit. This was a major attack on a major wizarding community. If this wasn't related to the Wizengamot issues in any way I would be be fucking amazed.

"You were there?" Isaac asked.

"Aye. There were a dozen of the things coming out of nowhere, eating all those setting up the night's dinner rations." The man's face, plain and pale, took upon a haunted look, and all of his bluster from before melted off of him. "I don't know how many died right away, but _I_ ran. The fires started right after. The one in the market might've been an accident, but these others... Everlasting Fire?"

"I think I saw a jar hit that house before it went up," another said, a wizard barely out of his teens.

"Everlasting Fire in a bottle," I commented. "Not good. They throw it, the houses go up and can't go out, and with zombies walking around..."

"I saw Aurors show up," the thickset man I'd healed said, "They were dealin' with 'em in the square."

"But some up and walked away, obviously..."

Maybe because they heard me referring to them, but there was a groan, a reminder that the zombies from earlier were still coming our way. All right, time to take action.

"All right!" I said, raising my voice to rally the wayward wizards. "You all remember how to kill a zombie? Form up, don't cross spells, and aim for the head!"

It wasn't the most coordinated effort, but there were only three zombies approaching from a far distance, and eight of us taking shots. I dropped one, the big one in the middle, but many of the other spells in the air had chosen that same target, and their spells burst into the grass, the trees and the side of another, priorly untouched, home. The youngest wizard took down the one on the left with a conjured spike through the eye, while the third one, wearing a wizard's robe, took spells from four wands before one actually hit the head, rolling it off the skinny zombie's shoulders and onto to the grass. Knowing that the head being intact like that still meant it was active, I cast the final spell to turn it into a messy explosion of brain matter and skull.

"Merlin," the first wizard breathed out. "That was Smitty's head you blew up."

Err, sorry. "You all did great," I told them, clasping the teenager who took down one on his own by the shoulder.

The heavyset man snorted. "Yeah, Lobell's got a cooler head than the rest of us, that's for sure."

I pulled my hand away, as an old memory flittered in my mind, and echoing screams rang in my head... But I didn't tell the kid I was there when his father died. It wasn't important, at all. There was a bigger fire to fight now. "Yeah, good job kid," I told him. _Chip off the old block._

I shook my head to rid myself of the memory. "I'm going to go help Bill," I informed the group. "You can all come, or go help the others, or the Aurors, or whatever you need to do. Be smart, stick together, don't even try to dispel the fires, and remember, aim for the head."

We broke off. Apparently the fact that Harry Potter was on the case meant the others wanted to deal with more local threats rather than trekking up to Bill's pod of homes and trying to make sure The Burrows's leader was alive and well. Only Isaac decided to follow me, and I traced the path we were going to take for him. "If the market's filled with Aurors, zombies and fire, we don't want to run through that gauntlet. We go around here on the left, not too close to the homes and not too close to the trees, because we'll have fire near one and maybe walkers hiding in the other."

Isaac nodded. "You got it, Harry. I trust you."

The route we took reminded me of the Quidditch Cup incident in my fourth year. I could hear the screams and smell the smoke, but I was shrouded in darkness as we edged the leftmost boundary line, ducking under branches of leafless trees and jumping over fallen sticks and debris littered in the dark. A few people darted by us to pass the ward boundary and apparate away with loud cracks, and once or twice I glimpsed a shadow or two in the brush. The melancholy moaning of the ravenous undead occasionally pierced the air, sometimes sounding horribly close, other times sounding blissfully far.

Horribly close turned out to be the right of it, as Isaac found out. He was walking behind me when I heard a thick smacking sound, like the full force of a body thumping into another, and when I turned, a zombie was scrambling to grab ahold of Isaac's leg, though finding itself handicapped by the lack of its left arm. Isaac kicked its nose and teeth in heartily, but it was my Flinging Hex that threw the creature into the nearest tree, and one, ever-reliable, Piercing Curse finished the job, killing the zombie and making a nice big hole in the tree behind it.

I walked over and offered Isaac a hand, and he took it, hoisting himself up with my weight. He patted down his jeans and arms, maybe checking for bites, maybe just getting rid of the accumulated debris from the forest floor. "Thanks for that," he said. "You now definitely, _definitely_, have my vote on the bill."

I laughed. "It'd be great if these things would happen more often, if it gets me votes."

No more zombies met with us along the rest of the way to Bill's, but a familiar face apparated into the woods just past the boundary line. He was illuminated by the tip of his wand; Ron, his eyes bloodshot but expression alert, taking in the scene wearily. His attentions were on the flaming house neighbouring his brother's, but when I scuffled my foot on a fallen group of leaves, he turned. As quickly as he had his wand pointed at me, it was already pointed away.

"Harry," he greeted. "Had no idea you were around."

To him, I'd left Granford hours back to deal with the Ogdens and then visit Astoria. It was almost hard to believe I had been talking with Theodore Nott in that cell, so close to completely breaking, just earlier this afternoon. I also remembered a plan to get some sleep, but the adrenaline of battle was fuelling me now, and sleep would come later. Jaded as I was to being awake so long, I knew it would be just glorious to rest my head on a pillow somewhere...

But The Burrows was still being attacked; sleep _would_ come later. "Who's back at Granford?" I asked Ron.

"Ernie and Terry are awake, and with Abe, and Su's watching the police station," he replied succinctly. "Neville's off with Susan, offering help to the Ministry workers at the square. I needed to go see if Bill was all right, you know, so..."

"Yeah, we're doing the same." I hooked a thumb over my shoulder and pointed it at Isaac. "Ron, Isaac, Isaac, Ron." The two shared nods of acknowledgement, and I strolled forward. "Right, let's move."

That sorted, Ron, Isaac and I left the secluded forested area and jumped right back into the thick of things, coming up on Bill's house and the four surrounding it. Now that I was closer, I could see that the house aflame wasn't in fact Bill's, or even George's or Ginny's. The other two houses in the pod belonged to the Stebbinses and the Mayers, two of the other families who had founded the place. Mayer's house was the one on fire, and a few of the flames came dangerously close to catching on the roof of George's, which would then get to Bill's...

"Hey!" I shouted out as we got closer. There were a dozen wizards and witches standing before the house, wands out and ineffectually combating the blaze. "It's Everlasting Flame, so -"

A cross between a growl and a moan spat into my ear, and I instinctively ducked my head and jumped away from the noise. Good thing too, considering that where I was just standing soon became the resting place of the zombie that spooked me, its head mashed in vertically and the rest of its body following suit, split onto two parts on the grass.

"Yeah," said a voice. "We noticed."

I looked to it and found myself looking at Ginny, her hair a little longer, and singed, than I'd seen last but otherwise looking no worse for wear. Her wand was out and pointed towards the pulp where that zombie just was, maybe because she thought she hadn't overly killed it enough. She wasn't smiling, but there was a visible relief in her eyes at mine, and Ron's, presence.

"Nice of you to join us!" George called out from his spot combating the flames. Even if he didn't have the bright orange hair sticking out in the night, the lack of one of his ears made George noticeable from a distance "We've got a nice bonfire going," he said with cheer. "So who brought the marshmallows?"

"Ron forgot," I called back. To Ginny, I said, "If you're trying to control the Fire, water won't work."

She nodded. "What do you suggest then?"

"Get a vessel, a jar or an urn, to put it in. Enchanted Everlasting Fire never dies, but it can be contained, kept away from growing and spreading. You just gotta push it, control it, feed it, let it come to you. I've, uh, never dealt with it, but I know enough people working together can get it locked down." I looked back to Mayer's burning home. "Though it might be a lost cause, this one."

"We are _not_ losing The Burrows," Ginny said fiercely. "The fire in the market is just the normal kind, and the Aurors should be dealing with that now, provided they got all the walkers. If we can contain this flame, here, we can do the others before everything is lost."

I almost forgotten how much heart and soul Ginny had poured into The Burrows. Her family was nearly all gone, and Ron and Bill were busy helping me to be there all the time for her and The Burrows. Bill was the leader, and did a damn fine job, but Ginny made sure things were still running, because that's what she set herself to do. That's what she _had _to do, to her. It was like me, with the Wizengamot and Granford and everything else, but in a smaller scale. But, what she and Bill and George built here was still a cog in the overall machine, and what would seem like an isolated, tiny, little slice of the world compared to mine was just as important in its own way. The Burrows was one of those places where children would grow up to play their own parts in the future of all humanity, especially the smallest ones, and that had sanctity had to be preserved.

"Did Bill get out?"

Her expression softened. "I think so, yes - he was taking Fleur and the kids to Shell Cottage, and said he'd back as soon as he could."

"And Teddy?"

"He and Andromeda went with them too; they're fine," she promised.

"Okay," I said, clapping my hands together. "We have to do something about these fires, so -"

"We'll be vulnerable when we're concentrating on that," interrupted Ginny. "You and Ron can make sure we don't get hit from behind, by zombies, or..."

"Or... Who?" Or _what_?

She leaned in and lowered her voice. "Earlier, before the Aurors showed up, we were dealing with the undead at the market. Now, the fires started soon after, and I saw somebody throw a bottle of flames at Smitty's house. He was standing there, on the outskirts. And he was wearing a dark cloak."

I thought back to tromping in the woods with Isaac, to the dark figures glimpsed in the shadows of the trees. They weren't Dementors, I knew that much, with the lack of cold and mind-numbing depressive memories and all. But still... more attackers, more intrigue. Maybe we'd get lucky and catch one, figure something out.

"I didn't see his face, or even if was wearing a Death Eater mask, but when he saw I noticed him, he bolted. Ran for the ward boundary. Harry, I shot five Stunning Spells into his back, and he didn't go down. _Five_. They just absorbed right into his cloak." She sighed. "He activated a portkey just behind the wards, and that was it. I don't know who he is, or even if it was a he in the first place..."

"Gin! Now!" George's voice shouted, breaking the reverie. Ron and Isaac had joined George and the others in fighting with the flames, and me and Ginny caught up with them, so close that I could feel the heat stinging at my eyes again. "On three! One, two, three!"

You can't control any fire like this one with any conventional spell. This was burning eternal, enchanted to be forever as is, the purest, most primitive form of power to combat the darkness. You can't cast the Imperius on a tongue of flame and order it to move as you tell it to. But what you can do is a lot like what I did to Aquilla's neighbour - then, I had _pulled_. Now, I had to _push_, to bend and to shape, to work with twelve people in one concentrated effort. George led us like an opera, and the magic caught onto the flame with an invisible force. True to the name, the Everlasting Fire didn't go out or even shrink at the manipulations of air removing it from the house and into nothing. Ginny was the one to create the vessel, and the torrent of flame we _pushed _and _bent _and _twisted _as we forced it travelled into the wizard's hat floating in front of Ginny's wand tip. It may have looked older and rattier than the Sorting Hat, but it also looked solid, and I knew without a doubt it would hold the Gubraithian Fire.

Good thing too, because I was forced to drop my control of the fire when a glimpse of a cloaked figure caught the corner of my eye, and I was soon running across the grass.

When the dark shape noticed I was going towards him, he ran down the hill towards another pod of houses right next to the boundary line. Ron and Isaac followed after me, each calling out. Ron's strides were steady and long with his height, but Aquilla outright sprinted, catching up beside me, taking one look at the figure I was perusing, and running ahead, wand in hand.

"Stop!" Isaac cried. "_Stupefy!_"

The spell hit true, slamming into the figure's back. But, like Ginny had warned, the spell simply did nothing. It hit the cloak, but somewhere between the material and the body, the spell fizzled out. The second Stunner went wide and hit a tree, while the third finally prompted the cloaked figure to stop. Slowly, carefully, the figure turned around, and held up its right hand. I couldn't see the hand itself, just the long sleeve concealing everything but shadows.

And then the sleeve barked, something small and impossibly fast tore through the air, and a spurt of blood exploded out of the back of Isaac's neck.

In the after-echoes of the gun firing in the night, I heard a choking sound come from him. He collapsed onto the ground instantly, and by the time I got there I didn't need a Diagnostic Charm to tell me Isaac Aquilla was dead.

The cloaked man, or woman, raised the sleeve again. But I wasn't caught by pure surprise, or slow to react under pressure, so I had a blue, dome-shaped shield coalesced in front of me by the time the second bullet spat out of the gun hidden in the figure's sleeve. The bullet crashed into my shield and shattered like it was made of glass, and the same fate was in store for the next three, fired out one after another, _bang_, _bang_, _bang_. Perhaps realising my shield was making the projectiles useless, the figure turned his gun over my shoulder and towards the approaching Ron, who was quick enough with his own shield to block it. And so, while the figure was busy, I dropped my shield and rushed forward, unleashing a wreath of purple light from my wand. The light formed into a lasso by the time the figure realised and decided to turn tail, my lasso chasing behind.

"We can't let him get past the ward boundary!" I shouted to Ron. "Come on!"

I jumped over Aquilla's body and started running again, feet pounding at the earth and my breath heavy in my chest. _Aquilla was dead_, a part of my mind registered, numb with surprise but at the same time urging me onwards, to uncover the man or woman in that cloak. Somehow I doubted I'd like who would be hidden by it, especially if they were wielding a pistol as their main weapon. The implications could be staggering to consider, but since there was only one way to be sure... I ran faster.

The houses were coming up closer, this pod probably the only group that hadn't been lit aflame, but signs of people rushing to leave were seen here and there - doors wide open, belongings strewn on the grass, abandoned by panicky and fleeing citizens. The cloaked figure made a beeline for the big Victorian house looking mightily out of place with its top half sticking out of a large tree, and if I were to guess, he'd be running through the house to the back door and out to the boundary line from there. The door was already half off its hinges before the cloaked man smacked it open further, bolting through. But Ron and I were close, and at my gesture, Ron sprinted to the door while I went around the side.

I was passing by the side of the house when I heard a great crash from the inside, a murmured curse word from Ron, and the snarl of a zombie.

My blood froze and I immediately rushed to the nearest window, peering into a once-fancy looking parlour room, complete with grand piano in the corner, now in ruins as Ron went toe to toe with a faceless zombie; literally, the zombie's face had been mostly burned off, leaving a snapping maw, a charred-broiled spot where its nose had been, and one eye visible through the burnt flesh of its forehead. Ron had his wand in hand, but it was pointed at the floor and the zombie was determined, diving forward in slow motion. Ron acted with a knee to the zombie's chest, pushing to the grand piano. He walked forward and raised his wand.

"Harry, I've got this!" Ron called out, although I wasn't sure if he saw me watching or not. "Go get _him_!"

The back door of the house audibly slammed open, and I was running again. I turned the corner and there the cloaked figure was fleeing across the grass and into the trees. He wasn't running anymore. Something, maybe Ron, maybe the zombie back there, had injured his leg, and his gait was forced, his run half-hearted through what was probably quite a bit of pain.

I took advantage of this immediately, summoning up the purple lasso of light again. It lashed out and lit up the darkness with a bright magenta tint, and by the time the figure turned around and noticed, it was too late. It caught around his legs with the lasso end, the other end snapping into his back. He went down in a heap, and at an angle so awkward it cracked something in his upper body. When he hit the ground, he stopped moving, but I didn't take any chances. I pulled him towards me with a burst of magic, keeping him as far away from the ward boundary as I could.

The pistol, the one he had used to kill Aquilla, gleamed silver in the darkness. Curious, I picked it up off the grass from where it had fallen.

Time seemed to slow down. I recognised it; old, well-used, and I'd seen it in the hands of a woman who died, some Muggle I barely knew who called her gun The Preacher. Marge, this woman, had been killed by a zombie, but her gun had been picked up by...

Oh.

And then I removed the cloak.

And really wished I hadn't.

His face was harsh and pockmarked, his hair dark and receding at his temples. He had the look of a man not too old and not too young at the same time. He'd been through a hell of a lot of action, I'd heard, but apparently if I were to ask, he'd claim that nothing bad had ever happened to him.

Until now.

It was Warren, one of Aaron Fortess's deputies back in Granford. A Muggle. He killed Aquilla, and he was one of the group throwing Everlasting Fire around.

He was also very much dead. My spell had broken a part of his spine in the fall, and even if that hadn't of killed him, the bite mark on his leg from the faceless zombie back in the house would've eventually had him succumb. My spell had killed him, yeah, but he had still been infected, and, now dead, would come back to life very soon. So, I snapped my wand and drove a Piercing Curse through his brain before he started walking around again. And then he was very much dead all over again.

"Shit," I cursed. Standing there in the dark, before the body of a Muggle, and not just any Muggle, a Muggle from Granford. The place I was trying to save. Fuck. I'd been afraid since Aquilla's death that there was a Muggle under that cloak, but one of Fortess's deputies? Again, fuck. And even though I was tireder than tired, and felt like I could barely lift my wand, I knew what I had to do. What I needed to do was deal with the body, deal with the other zombies and burning homes, gather my friends, and just try to contain _everything_ -

Ron's cry of pain shook the sky, and I abandoned Warren's body to bolt into the house I'd last seen my friend in. _Not Ron, _I told myself. _Please not him._

When I burst into the house's parlour, I found Ron on the ground, his hands pushing against the faceless zombie's neck, trying to keep the thing's teeth from his neck, and while it looked like he was succeeding in part, there was still a mighty struggle going on.

"Ron, roll on top of him!" I yelled, and he rushed to comply, kicking his legs out, grasping the zombie's own with them and just rolling over, careful not to get bitten in the act. "Move back!"

Ron kept his hands pushed at the things chest but moved his head and neck as far as possible, and that was all I needed. With a wave of my wand, all I could muster, a burst of energy upturned the grand piano in the corner of the room with an unhappy _creak_, flipping over itself sideways before crashing onto the floor. Oh, and the zombie's head in between. Ron's entire upper half was splattered with the blood of the zombie's upper half, crushed into a pulp by the grand piano.

Ron stepped back from the body - well, the legs and the formless bloody mash leaking from under the piano - and the ruined piano and looked at me. "Thanks."

"What happened?" I asked, peering around at the ruined parlour.

"Knocked my wand out of my hand," he replied shortly, picking up the offending stick from the other side of the room. With a wave of it, the blood cleaned off his face and neck, but still clung to his shirt - once black, now crimson.

But I was still worried, and Healer me asked, "Did you get bitten?"

"No," he said.

"Did you swallow any of its blood?"

"Harry, no, I'm fine." He shook his head exasperatedly. "Did you get him? The cloaked man?"

"Yeah. It was Warren."

Ron pretty much summed it up with the following, "That's not fucking good."

..::..-.-..::..

"So how does this change things again?" George asked, frowning.

"I can think of a few ways," said Neville, rubbing his arm. He'd been cut during the night's events, and had been healed up already, but the itching sensation would persist for a while. "If the Wizengamot gets wind of this, the Muggle prejudices will go up, and will probably never go back down."

George raised an incredulous eyebrow. "Despite the fact the attack involved portkeys, enchanted cloaks and Everlasting Fire?"

"If only it were that simple," I muttered to myself.

It was nearing dawn when we finally got the last fire contained and the last zombie had been put down. It had been a tough night, to say the bloody least, and Ministry workers poured over the wrecked Burrows like ants, gathering bodies, taking stock of the losses, and keeping the now homeless citizens calm and away from unstable, half-burnt, homes. Myself, Neville, Susan, George, Ginny and Ron were finally taking a moment to ourselves up near Bill's house, from where we could see the entire town trying to pick up the pieces after last night's attack. Nobody had been injured too badly among us; burns and cuts and George had a broken arm, but nobody had gotten bitten, thankfully. The real injury of the night was sheer exhaustion; I definitely didn't think I had it in me to even lift my wand, let alone cast any spells.

But there were still things to talk about, because there always was.

"What did you do with his body?" Susan asked. "Warren, was it?"

"Emphasis on the _was_," I said sardonically. "I burned him. Leaving him there to be found and identified as a Muggle would've been disastrous, and sending him back for Fortess to be found would read more like a message, more than anything else." I sighed tiredly. "But, at the same time, if they realise Warren never came home, they might get paranoid, think he's been captured... God, what a fuck up. Burning seemed to work best."

Nobody had any arguments to that. Ginny scowled at the grass, Ron crossed his arms, and Susan let out a little yawn, leaning towards Neville for a lack of anywhere else to lean; Neville coloured, but seemed too tired to do anything but hold her steady against him.

Bill walked up then, looking just as tired as the rest of us but carrying himself a bit more dignified. He had arrived in the middle of the night, while the Everlasting Fire had still been raging. He'd made sure we were okay before going off to deal with the Ministry, where he would've had to appear strong for everyone else's sake. "I'm glad you're all all right," he said, patting George on the shoulder and smiling at Ginny.

"Fleur and the kids?" she asked, and in a small voice, she added, "Teddy?"

"All fine, promise," Bill replied. "I'll keep them at Shell Cottage for as long as needed."

Ginny looked content with that, but her voice was fearful as she said, "How many died?"

Bill's confident posture evaporated: his shoulders slouched and his hands began fidgeting near his robe pockets. "Nearly a hundred."

No spell could've hit that hard, and trust me, I've been on the receiving end of more than a few hard hitters.

"... twenty hungry zombies released right in the middle of the market square," Bill continued, "Nearly the whole town was out getting their rations for the night, and when they just _appeared_, some even portkeying in right on top of people, it was chaos. I got my family out just after the fires started - when everybody ran to their homes or towards the boundary, the cloaked men threw those bottles and, well, more chaos, more panic. The walking dead still pottering around, and..." He grimaced. "Well, you were there."

"Did you catch any of them?" Neville asked. "The cloaked men?"

Bill shook his head. "Everyone was too busy with the undead, and when I got back, there were still a few fires up. But some of the cloaked men did a bit of damage before leaving. I saw one curse some people in the back -"

"Wait, there was one with a _wand_?" I clarified.

He peered at me curiously. "Yeah, but come to think of it, he was the only one... And..." It dawned on his face then, the realisation I accidentally gave. "One of the Aurors had a hole ripped through his chest, a wound that looked like it was caused by a Muggle shotgun. A few of the others said they saw what sounded like bullets whizzing through the air. I wouldn't know otherwise if not for when Dad brought home that rifle when I was seven... Why would there be bullets?"

"Because there were Muggles under those cloaks," I said severely. "Apart from our wizard friend, they were from Granford, Bill. I, uh, killed one, and I recognised him. He was one of Fortess's deputies, a man named Warren."

"Oh." Bill's face went carefully blank.

"Bill, I'm so sorry, I am. I know I should've seen this coming, or acted faster, or just been doing _something_, but -"

"Stop blaming yourself," Ron cut in. "Bill knows the circumstances as well as we all do."

"Maybe not _us_," George muttered, gesturing to himself and Ginny.

"I know the Ministry hasn't gotten that information yet, at least," said Bill, looking at me as he spoke, before turning back to the others. "I just talked with Robards - he's down at the market."

I peered down, and sure enough, I could see the Minister's entourage and the man himself walking through and observing the damage, assessing losses of life and losses of resources, more than likely the latter than the former. I didn't feel like going to chat with him, as much as I probably should've.

"He's not eager to hand over support right away, to say the least. He says we have to be sure there's no zombies around, and the fire damage is too irreversible to simply jump back in and rebuild right away. He's trying to help, but at the same time, he thinks we're already beyond it."

Bill just confirmed for me why I didn't want to talk with the Minister. The passive nature, while giving him a bit of neutrality necessary for his job - nobody wanted a repeat of Fudge - was beginning to grate on me. I couldn't tell you what, but it felt like there were a lot more things he could've been doing than he was, and that didn't make him a very useful ally at present.

"A lot of people lost their homes, and they're angry." Bill looked toward me again, very seriously. "They'll want retribution. Harry, _I_ want retribution."

"I know, and we know who was behind it all." My face fell. "And when they _discover_ that Muggles were involved, momentum will build, the Wizengamot will get pushed even more, the purebloods claiming that they're working in the best interests of wizardkind."

"But the attack's obviously been backed by a wizard," said Neville, frowning. "In some capacity, everyone will have to realise that."

"For all we know, the cloaked man with a wand Bill saw was Draco Malfoy," George spat.

That made me think for a second, about a wizard in Granford I knew was under the pureblood agenda's payroll. I'd have to talk with him soon...

"Blame will go back to the Muggles, somehow," Susan remarked to George. "There can be a claim that the Muggles were all under Imperius, for example, but that doesn't change who the purebloods will say orchestrated this." She waved a hand around the group. "Us. We'll be so desperate to push the disclosure bill that we'll look like we'd do _anything_. Even attack our own."

Ginny snorted. "And if you went to the Wizengamot and claimed there was a massive conspiracy to make it look like you were responsible?"

"Then they'd look paranoid, and crazy," George said, peering at me, Susan and Neville. "Crazier, anyway. Politics!"

"Wonder when it'll get to the point when the purebloods don't even have to go out and destroy Granford," I pondered. "Enough fearmongering and a few average wizards could just destroy the place."

"The purebloods will get there first," Neville said shortly. "Nott's still locked up back in Granford, just waiting for the opportunity..."

"And have the Wizengamot handled at the exact same time, and get away with everything," Susan finished. "And it's not like Robards is going to step up now and save them; not without risking further death."

Enough of this. I balled my fists at my sides. "Things are dire, I know, but there are things we still have to do, and now." I pointed to Bill. "Bully Robards into getting the wards bulked up a bit, and add the anti-portkey spells in the market square. I didn't think of it before, because I didn't think the Death Eaters would have the sheer gall to attack their own kind, but I was wrong, and I don't want to be again." He nodded, and I turned to Ginny and George. "I know that if I ever needed it, you'd both help right away."

"Too right," George said, while Ginny nodded.

"But you're needed here, with your brother," I told them. "The Burrows will be rebuilt, and they'll need all three of you more than ever. Not only that, but if someone decides to come back and finish the job on the place, or get at Bill or his family, I need you both there to protect him, instantly." They both looked at me as if there was any doubt, and I felt very comforted. "Ginny, with Teddy -"

"I know," she said determinedly. "He and Andromeda will be fine. Better than fine."

I could count on that. Ginny had been a caretaker to Teddy Lupin, my godson, for the last year. I'd been reneging on my duties as godfather, but Ginny had appointed herself a de-facto godmother to cover for me and to honour Tonks and Lupin. She'd die for Teddy, no doubt about it.

"Do you really think they'll attack again, Harry?" Neville asked. "I would've thought this was a message more than anything else."

"But Bill lives here. And so does Hart, and Diggory lives just down the road. And Aquilla... he lived here too."

It was possible that The Burrows _was_ attacked with the hope that a political enemy or two would be killed in the process. Not specifically, because if the Muggles were tasked to outright murder somebody who was a known political enemy of people like Selwyn or Parkinson, it'd raise more suspicion. But if Aquilla or Diggory or Hart were to just end up dead, by sheer coincidence, it would help them quite a bit.

"The evenstall's broken now," I said quietly. "Aquilla's death puts us down to nineteen, and we lost one of ours... He said I had his support before he died. He was a sure vote." And, in the brief time I knew him, a good man. He died helping me, and he died helping The Burrows, his home. His death was another harsh hit, and given who was behind it, and given the ramifications of everything else going back up from there, things were spiralling out of control.

And Astoria. God, Astoria wouldn't be getting her seat. She would be put in the corner, locked up by her husband for more time. I _promised_ to show her so many things, and now that the evenstall was broken, those promises were nothing. I felt the urge to get her out of there forcefully, to thumb my nose at Malfoy, but I couldn't afford to do that. There was still a chance that Malfoy himself was valuable in some way, and I got the feeling we had another confrontation under the guise of a visit to Malfoy Manor coming up.

"We can't help but be prepared," I told the group. "Bill's sacrifice bought us some time to get into Granford, but Aquilla's death has changed things again. We need time to regroup and plan, and think of a way to delay so I can deal with Fortess and Nott and Malfoy. Susan -" She pushed herself off Neville's shoulder and stared at me, alert. Neville, on the other hand, looked disappointed by the loss. "Can you meet with Ogden and tell him to delay the meeting, to push it as far back as he can?"

"Harry, in emergencies like this one, there's a better chance the meeting would be brought _forward_ rather than being pushed back," said Bill.

"Not if we invoke some kind of mourning period, for Aquilla and The Burrows, or if enough of the members petition to focus on rebuilding first."

"I'll try everything I can," Susan promised.

"Remind Ogden he owes me for his family, and that if they get threatened again, they're safe."

"Will do."

"And will Stark be a problem? Is he still breathing down your neck?"

Susan grimaced. "He'll never stop, Harry, but Wizengamot business has nothing do with DMLE work. I'll just have to remind him of that."

"Good. We have to get back to Granford right away," I said, gesturing to me, Neville and Ron. "We need to get a hang of things over there again, see who's going to act first." I yawned. "But I'll need to sleep first. Barring direct emergencies, I'll need it before anything else happens. I know you'll all take care of things for a couple of hours without me. Pre-emptively, I just want to say... thank you all." I paused. "Oh, and I got Diggory's vote last night. Before the attack."

"You did?" Neville asked, a small grin forming on his face.

"Yeah." I'd almost forgotten before all of this, that I had gained a little victory in securing Diggory's vote for our bill. But the looks on my friends' faces, seeing the ray of light in the clouds, shot a trill of victory through me. "Thanks," I said again.

The group nodded, slapped each other on the shoulders, shook hands and generally shared sentiments wishing good luck, and to me, a good sleep. I needed it all, especially after the past few days. My friends were sticking by me despite everything, and I trusted them.

And when I got back to Granford soon after, the thought reassured me into a blissful, long-deserved, slumber.

..::..-.-..::..

I woke up in the middle of the afternoon, and while that sounded like I hadn't had that much of a rewarding sleep after being up as long as I had, it was enough. My mind felt rejuvenated, and although the aches and pains of last night's battle caught up to me as I tromped down the stairs of Abe's inn to the ground level, the pub, I could grumble and groan in my head with perfect clarity. The pub was, quite surprisingly, empty. It's not like I was expecting some kind of late lunch rush of patrons - or any patrons at all - but this time today Aberforth was usually at his bar, polishing a glass or two and somehow managing to be on top of all the town's news while doing so. I ignored the sick little twist in my gut I felt at the emptiness.

Ernie burst through the door then, out of breath and visibly surprised to see me. "There you are!" he exclaimed. "I was about to come wake you. Stanthorpe just came back."

I bolted out of the pub. Stanthorpe had volunteered to check on Liliford, Granford's long-destroyed sister town, just yesterday afternoon. If he was back now, he would've been driving nonstop, taking abandoned roads and detours to throw Dementors off his trail...

A crowd had gathered in the main square when we got there, all gathered around Stanthorpe's white pickup truck. Ernie and I pushed through, and saw that the truck was parked on an erratic angle and looked battered, white paint splattered in both blood and oil. I've seen cleaner corpses, honestly.

Stanthorpe himself was leaning against it, and he looked like he'd added a bit more grey to his hair overnight, his whole body racked by nervous shakes. He was talking with Aaron Fortess, with only one of the leader's deputies, Juliet, present for the interrogation. Something was said in a low voice, but it wasn't low enough. A whisper started up in the crowd, followed by another, and another, and soon, the entire crowd was rumbling.

"Did he say Liliford?"

"- mistfiends, 'e said. Can you believe tha'?"

"And Warren's not been around, either."

"Didn't he go with him?"

"Shit, is that _his_ blood on the truck?"

"Liliford's gone!"

"We're so fucked."

After a moment, Juliet led Stanthorpe out of the ruckus and towards the town hall, while Fortess gestured to a few of the others, again talking in low, furiously fast, tones. One of the men was Lucas Meadowes, the very easily bought Ministry operative who looked as tired as I had, like, say, he'd been up all night. Fortess's own expression was strained, and I knew it wasn't because the news of Liliford finally hit them all.

"We got some things done when you were sleeping," Terry muttered, sidling up in the middle of me and Ernie. "Ron went and put monitoring charms on Nott's cell, and he's watching from a distance now - we were watching earlier, and Neville's got the late shift. Nobody's been visiting, except to give him some food."

"Let's just hope they don't smuggle him a wand in the rations," Ernie said under his breath.

"The whole town's been pretty normal today," continued Terry. "But I think it's forced, like Fortess wants it all to appear business as usual, despite the fact quite a few people look tired or injured... and that guy Warren's missing."

"Has Fortess confronted any of you?" I asked. "Or is anybody following you around, or...?"

Ernie shook his head. "Abe's said nobody's tried listening in at the pub, with magical or Muggle means. Fortess and his best have been ignoring us all day, which is really about the norm. We've been keeping an eye out."

"Juliet called me a waste of space this morning," Terry said cheerily. "I think she's warming up to me."

"How so?"

"She didn't even glare at me this time, or pat her rifle."

"Probably too tired to," I said; I could easily imagine Juliet running around in one of those dark cloaks last night, throwing jars of Everlasting Fire at houses and gunning down panicked wizards and witches. Juliet's devotion to Fortess was a well known fact, and if Warren was there at The Burrows, she would've definitely been there too, because they both followed Fortess, who was being led around the nose by the wrong kind of people.

The crowd around us started to disperse, but the restless whispering never ceased, a buzz of angry bees with us all in the midst of it.

"And they have no idea how lucky they are Stanthorpe didn't lead the Dementors back here," said Terry.

A hand reached out and cuffed the back of Terry's head. I wasn't surprised to see it was Abe, not one bit. "Keep it down," he snapped. "Ever had the idea we shouldn't talk about _this_ in _public_? Come on, let's go back to the pub."

Sometime on the way back, our party of four became five. Su Li emerged from out of the shadows and stepped beside us as if she'd always been there, and nobody commented. Her idea of a proper greeting was, "Ron's watching the police station now. Neville's working out on the farm. Nothing else to report."

"Thanks Su," I said, and that was that.

When we got back, Ernie and Terry set about scrummaging up some food for us from what little we had on hand, while Abe, Su and I converged around the bar. Abe stood behind it in his usual spot, and Su and I took our seats on barstools. I drummed my fingers on the bar while Su played with a straw, idly twirling it around in her slim fingers.

"We should've seen this coming," Abe said gruffly.

I snorted. "What, Stanthorpe coming back? The Muggles may know about Liliford, but I'm not convinced Fortess didn't already know. If he can be manipulated into attacking The Burrows, he will be told _some_ things."

"Not what I meant, but you're getting there. No, I'm sayin' we should've seen the attack coming. Any attack."

He'd been thinking about this a lot, in his own frank way. He shared a good running theory about the pureblood agenda's plan to make it look like we broke the Statute of Secrecy, and although I had an idea of his insight, I still needed to hear it. "Go on," I said, and he did.

"Well first off, Fortess is corrupt. Not a theory anymore. That bitch Juliet's involved too."

As much as it pained me, yeah, it was way too likely. "You don't need to tell me twice. Though... It could've just been Warren on his own, the attack. Maybe Juliet too. We've got no proof otherwise, and he might've be an easier target to corrupt than Fortess."

"But we assumed they would go for Fortess in order for it to make your job harder. If Fortess's second-in-command was making decisions behind his back, it would be too easy for us to go to Fortess, tell him about Warren's treachery, and save the day somehow. No, they went for Fortess. I don't doubt that now."

"You were here for a year," I said sombrely. "And you're the first to doubt him."

"The signs all point to it."

"But he... We've been here a week, and we went out on scavenging trips he planned. He's _good_, Abe, damn good, and the best this town could ask for. I know desperate times could make him take desperate measures, but him being corrupted so easily? It's just -"

"Unfair," Abe finished gruffly. "But so's life. Nobody's incorruptible. Think about it."

I realised he was right. Fortess's story was only one example, and I only needed to look around at the people in my life to realise how easily people could lose their own morals, their own integrity. Astoria had betrayed her husband, despite never wanting to do so, simply because of her crippling loneliness. Ogden was pushed into acts he'd never abide by because of his family, and he would go very far in order to protect those he loved. Robards, our dear Minister, was corrupted by his own passive nature because, after all, despite his threats and his promises, Aquilla still died, and all the Wizengamot members were just as in danger of suffering the same. Even I wasn't incorruptible, especially given _everything_... and things to come. Before this is all over, I'd have cross a line or two, do something that would be hard to reconcile with... But I'd do it anyway. There would be no choice; I just knew that.

"You said we should've seen the attack coming," Su said to break the silence. "Elaborate?"

Abe nodded at her, but he spoke to me specifically. "We assumed the plot to give Granford better crops was just for the sake of breaking the Statute, but at the same time, we were thinking about it all wrong. The crops could've showed up on their own and been obvious to any wizards, but we were convinced that it was Fortess himself that had been corrupted into accepting them in the first place."

I frowned. "Because of Liliford, and there being a feeling of resentment. Fortess would see Liliford's good fortune and want the same for his people."

"So why destroy Liliford outright? Because they didn't need them anymore? No, it's because they were _using_ Liliford's destruction. As a way of convincing Fortess into accepting their help. At first, they pit the Muggles against the Muggles, and after there's only one group of Muggles left, they'd spin Liliford's destruction to _us_. The rest of wizardkind. Creatures out of _our_ control destroyed Granford's sister town. This rogue wizard offering his services would paint himself sympathetic, maybe even imply that the fact the crops at Liliford were growing so well meant the rest of the wizards _let them_ be destroyed by the Dementors."

"So they pit the Muggles against the wizards," I said, and it all made terrible sense.

"After that? Well, I think you saw that last night. The Muggles become pawns in an attack. Muggles with wizard support killing other wizards while believing they're killing the bad men who let Liliford be destroyed. And back in the Wizengamot... Well, it hardly needs to be said. Muggles versus Muggles, Muggles versus wizards, wizards versus wizards. And when the dust settles... The purebloods'd win."

"So Fortess has been properly manipulated into attacking, and the purebloods have their ammunition against us next time we step in a Wizengamot meeting. And Nott's in place already, just waiting to open the floodgates. But what happens now, with Fortess? Is he left to flounder, or will there be another attack?"

Abe shrugged. "If he's that far gone, it wouldn't shock me, but he is still Aaron Fortess. And there's a chance he knows he's in over his head, and... We'll see."

I smiled to myself. He'd been the first to nail Fortess down as corrupt, but there was always hope, and Abe, gruff old bastard that he was, still had some. Circumstances were still more than a little stacked against us, but the sliver of hope felt good for the moment.

From the back room, we all heard Ernie swear, very loudly, and more than once. Directed at Terry if I were to guess, and probably related to the lunch they were rounding up. Abe sighed at the commotion, left the bar and headed out to scold them, leaving me and Su alone.

She broke the silence first. "You remember the lockdown? Stupid question, but it's possible that you've repressed it."

"I've been thinking about it more lately," I admitted. "But yes, I remember."

"That was a bad day."

_Well said, Su_, I thought.

"I went home afterwards," she continued. "My family had a house at Leadworth. My mother, my father, my little brother. As soon as I got you settled and made sure Neville was all right, I went home. Only, well, the outbreak had hit there. My mother, my father, and my little brother were zombies, Harry. I found them wandering around, half-eaten by each other. So I killed them. And burned them." That was all that she said, exactly as she said it. There was no break of her voice, no nothing in her eyes. Just words, just direct, just Su Li. "And then I went back to work. There was work to be done. And there was work the next day, and the next, and the last year after that. I just went back to work."

"Why are you telling me this?" I asked softly, reaching out and placing a hand on her arm.

She didn't draw her arm away, but her fingers kept playing with the straw, twisting it into a spiral shape. "I went back to work, Harry, because I had to. There was a serious attack last night, and I know you're feeling like the odds are stacked against you, but you know there's always something you can be doing. That's why you started going out with Kingsley's team, that's why you joined the Wizengamot, and that's why we're here now. So, I went back to work. You need to do the same. So, what are you going to do?"

I knew the answer already, but Su's speech had made that answer into an action, a vague notion turning into something I needed to do _now_. "I'm going to talk with Draco Malfoy. I'm going to get some answers out of him for once. Afterwards, I'm going to prepare for the next meeting, in every way possible. If Draco can't give me what I need, then I press Nott for answers again. That's what I'm going to do."

Su nodded her head. "Then go to work."

"Go to work?" Abe parroted, coming back into the main area, Ernie and Terry in tow. "You leaving?"

"Draco and I need to catch up some more," I said, flicking my wand out of its holster and into my hand. "I'll need you all to cover for me again, maybe for the next two days. I can be back here as soon as possible, but Nott's not going anywhere until after the meeting, if I had to bet. The purebloods would want to time this perfectly, and I'm going to use that against them."

"Sounds like a plan, yeah," said Abe. "But you're not leaving so easily."

"Why, exactly?"

"Because you can't keep running off and having us cover for you without expecting somebody to notice eventually," he said bluntly. "You need to leave? Go on a supply run."

"Auror Strong leads the other Ministry operatives on little runs, doesn't he?"

"He's always successful too," Abe said. "Thanks to your little box out by the bus station."

"Then Fortess won't mind sending him out, and if we were to go with... I like this idea. That'd give us - me and Neville definitely - a legitimate excuse to be gone for a few days, and we'd bring back the supplies from the drop box Hart's team picked up in Cardiff."

"But what if you're needed here?" Ernie wondered.

Abe waved him off. "He still has that cloak of his, and like he said, he can be back if need be. He'll just have to do what he has to invisibly." To me, he said, "Go see Malfoy and get what you need. I heard you're friendly with his wife? You trust her?"

It was easy to believe he'd heard from one of the others - Ron and Neville knew the most about mine and Astoria's friendship, Ron completely all right with it because he actually liked Astoria, and Neville quietly disproving about the whole thing. "Yeah, Astoria and I are close. If Malfoy won't spill, she will, especially after hearing about the attack. She's on our side, but not completely, and not yet... But yes, I trust her."

"Well then don't wait around here anymore," Abe said forcefully. "I'll talk with Strong and set that up for you. Like the tiny girl said, Potter. Get to work."

From her stool, Su Li smiled enigmatically and continued to twist her straw in her hands.

..::..-.-..::..

Malfoy was home; I knew that instantly when a house elf answered the door, and not Astoria.

"My Lord and his wife are currently dining in the parlour," the elf told me. "They are not expecting any guests, so unless this is an emergency..."

I growled. "Tell Malfoy today might be the day I'll call in my debt. That will get him out here."

The elf bowed low. "As you wish," he said, and with a snap of his fingers, he was gone. As quickly as he'd left, he was already back, gesturing me inside. "My Lord will receive you in the parlour."

I nodded stiffly and let him lead me through the foyer level, straight through to the big doors under the balcony. The big doors opened up to a dining room with a long, opulent table sitting in the middle of it, and the elf led me off to the side room, a small door opposite another - the kitchens, if I had to guess - with a short hall leading to it. The parlour room at the end of this hall wasn't particularly large, but had an intimate feel, the kind of room that would make people feel at home by just look alone: the colours were all warm browns trimmed with an impressive silver, and the furniture was dark and plush, gathered around a large, crystal, tea table. Tapestries of a great battle on a field of grass took up the walls, both heartstoppingly beautiful and bloody all at once.

Draco and Astoria were seated across from each other when I came in, the latter with her back to me and the former pointedly ignoring me despite the fact he could see me. He was sipping at some tea calmly while Astoria's shoulders tensed; she knew I was here and she was scared, but for who exactly I couldn't say.

"Heard the news?" I said. "The Burrows were attacked last night. Somebody portkeyed in a pack of zombies in the middle of a busy crowd, and a whole bunch of cloaked somebodies were running around throwing jars of Everlasting Fire. Pretty rare find, the latter anyway, but not quite out of reach for somebody with the right amount of gold. I've been thinking a lot lately about how your gold seems to end up everywhere, Malfoy. After the war your reluctance in being associated with people like Selwyn or Parkinson is well known, and I thought it might've carried over to this vote... But again, you do seem to be giving out a lot of gold lately. I'm just curious: if I tracked the Everlasting Fire, would I find your gold at the other end?"

"You'd find exactly what you'd want to find," said Draco. "My elf told me you wished to invoke the life debt? If you would please get on with it..."

"You had to have known this attack was coming, or something similar was coming in the same capacity. You _had_ to have known."

He rolled his eyes. "I know a great deal many things, and Potter, you're not asking me a question. That's how you intend to call in the life debt: you ask the question, and I answer honestly."

"Aquilla is dead because of your friends! A hundred more are dead!"

"All victims of a senseless attack perpetrated by mysterious, unidentified, figures. Though I'm sure that their identities will soon be revealed."

I scoffed. "Because the pureblood supremacist crowd will suddenly have that answer, no doubt."

"All evidence that must be brought forward will be in front of the Wizengamot, because that is how things must go," he said silkily. "You might be wanting to break the Statute, the ultimate set of laws, for your Muggles, but we follow it because that's what is done. So, if evidence that threatens it must be brought to light, it will be. Now, Potter, what is your real grief with me, today?"

"Not just today, you asshole. I've been here to see you more than once, and you didn't say _anything_." He'd had his wife relay that Granford was the next target, but as for himself, he hadn't said squat. "I threatened you, via Harper, and you didn't say the attack was coming. You don't seem to grasp just how easily I can destroy you, Malfoy. Your gold, your seat, your manor, your everything -" Your _wife_. "- and I could take them all. You bailed out of Voldemort's service because you were scared, and this is no different. If you're scared, tell me, and I will help you. Because as scary as your Death Eater associates may be, I am much, _much_, scarier if you piss me off anymore. No more games, no more misdirection. I want you to pick your damn side. Now. Today."

Draco Malfoy calmly put his tea down on the table, stood from his chair, and took two steps towards me. From her seat, Astoria finally turned around to watch him, her eyes wide and her lips pursed. Draco soon stood before me, only slightly taller. His expression was cold.

"I have said it once, but it bears repeating. You, Harry Potter, are in over your head," he said. "Do you honestly believe that because I turned on the Dark Lord that I would turn on this? A lot of work has been put into the Wizengamot by my associates and I. You have seen me at the meetings, and have I _ever_ indicated that I want the Muggles to _live_? Ever? I turned from the Dark Lord's service because he was a mad man too obsessed with you to work on what he should've been: completely wiping out the Muggles for good, and bringing forth the magical-only utopia. To remove all impurity from the world and leave only those that would cherish and create beautiful things for millions of years. Now his work has been mostly completed in a roundabout way, but there are still some of these impurities who remain, bundled together behind their walls and hoping that they'll be protected from what's coming for them. The Ministry got to them first, helping them out as they could, so we couldn't just destroy them, no, not without you and your lot getting in the way..."

He shook his head. "But I digress. You are under a mistaken impression that I wish to be a Muggle-loving saviour, but you are so wrong. Magic wills out. That's why The Stigma all but destroyed the Muggles, and that's why myself and my friends are working towards a better future, all the while you putter around and fail to achieve _anything_. But do you know the truly funny part? You put everything into helping the Muggles, even if it'll kill you. But for us, it only takes one vote to shoot down the bill on the Wizengamot so you could do things legally. One vote. You need two-thirds majority, but we have a third for ourselves, and if we just get one more, one person who's scared of the Muggles, like MacMillan, or one person who wants our gold, like Zabini, and we win. The magical utopia that's coming will not shrivel like you predict. No, it will _thrive_. And you can't do a thing to stop that."

There was a pause, but it might as well have been a gaping chasm for all the time it gave me to think. And I only had one prevailing thought:

I was _wrong_. I'd underestimated Malfoy's own heritage, his own personal disdain for the Muggles and all those he doesn't believe as "pure". Leaving Voldemort was the exception for him, not the rule. One exception and I thought I had him where I'd want him, that he'd collapse under the pressure again and help me dismantle his own agenda. Back when I thought he used Astoria to tell me Granford was in danger, I was wrong, I knew that right now. Astoria had been relaying her own concern for Granford because that's what _she_ was concerned about, even if this was before we rekindled our friendship and she revealed that she didn't want the pureblood agenda to succeed. Malfoy had _nothing to do with that_. I was very, _very_, wrong.

But he wasn't done yet. "You think you're smart for spreading some rumours about Burke or trying to convert Gale? You'd do best to stay away from Gale, Potter, because I know the game you're playing. Let me tell you what we could do in return to your people, shall I? We could have Stark fire Bones from her job for gross misconduct in aiding you. We have ledgers on a business deal Patil and Brown made with Death Eaters back in the war to save their own skin. Hart could find himself having an _accident_ on one of the many dangerous supply runs he leads teams on. And then there's you. When we say that the Statute of Secrecy has been broken and that _you_ are behind it in order to start a chain of events to get your disclosure bill passed, it will _not_ be a hard sell. I could even claim that you used the Imperius Curse on the Muggles, easily so in fact. Remember how the Ministry didn't persecute you for using it during the war? Well, they would now, trust me. And there are so many things I could take from you, too. Your visits as my personal Healer are a pretence, and the fact you don't even work at St Mungo's anymore could get you fired and your Healing license revoked. Your self-appointed task to check up on me for the DMLE? You trespass my home and stalk me out in public, so that'd be gone too. You are desperate, for anything, but the fact is..." He took in a great breath, and his voice was cold as ice as he said, "You don't seem to grasp just how easily I can destroy _you_."

Silence reigned in the parlour for a moment. Shock and incredulous surprise coursed through me, and every instinct was screaming at me to retort back, to outright destroy Malfoy before he got a chance to destroy me. The shock made way to that anger, and right there and then I wanted to take as much as I could take, to put _him_ through what his friends, and him, were putting me through.

"If you intend to call that debt, do so now," Malfoy said firmly. He waited for five seconds while I said nothing, just staring and doing an impression of a goldfish. The words came to me eventually.

"I'm going to end you," I said quietly. "One day soon there'll be a reckoning."

"But this is not that day, I take it." He shook his head, scoffing under his breath. "Potter, Potter, I don't want you in my house again. If you appear, I might just have to call the Aurors, and nobody would want that, would they."

_Not now, _I told myself, though my fingers hurt I was curling them in my palms so hard. _Take him by surprise. Make him watch his friends crumble around him, and make him beg for mercy when all's said and done. _

"I'm going to my study," said Malfoy. "Things to do, letters to write concerning a certain Healer..." I moved aside for him to pass by, and he gave me a mocking tip of the head in return. "Astoria," he said, but the moment her name passed by his lips, he suddenly looked shocked.

And there it was. Draco was so busy telling me off that he'd forgotten she was there.

Astoria Malfoy, once a Healer-in-training, once a prospective Wizengamot chair, and now and entirely my friend. Wife of Draco, who did not involve herself in his business but still heard enough to know she didn't want him to truly succeed - she wouldn't betray him before, but also didn't want the disclosure bill to get shot down and the Muggles to be killed. Her nature prevented her from wanting to even stand by and do nothing, especially after the whole lot of nothing she'd been doing lately, at her husband's behest.

Astoria was frozen in her chair. Today she wore a blue gown that clung to her frame like water, with darker blue trimmings on the sleeves that contrasted with her light, soft, hands. Her honey-blonde hair was down past her shoulders, but a butterfly red pin kept the back in place and created a sort-of elegant bun. Her blue eyes were sparkling, not in a good way, directly at her husband. She was looking at him like she'd never seen him before, like the partial imprisonment, the lies and the sport he played with the zombies in his home were all precursors to a part of his nature she hadn't truly understood, until now. It was the second-most beautiful expression on her face I'd ever seen, that horror and dawning realisation that ultimately, her husband was a bad man.

And she just saw exactly how bad he could be.

Draco tried to recover, clearing his throat and nodding stiffly to her, like she was a painting on the wall. "I regret Healer Potter's words made me say such things," he said, "But his continual presence will only make things worse, dear, so if you'd please lead him through to the foyer? The house elves will take it from there."

At first, Astoria didn't move an inch. But then, slowly, she nodded her head.

"Thank you," said Draco, ignoring me completely as he turned away and walked from the room, footsteps poised and quiet.

He left the two of us alone. "We need to talk," I said, reaching forward and grasping her upper arm gently. "Please, and now."

Just before, I had wanted to take something from Malfoy so badly, but now I realised he had gone and done the job for me. Aquilla was dead, Malfoy and his friends all but claimed responsibility, and Astoria had just come into the understanding that because the evenstall was now broken, she wasn't getting her seat, and she wasn't leaving the Manor anytime soon. She was on my side, all but ready to help me take down her husband. With one final appeal, I could get that from her. I could get that from her _right_ _now_.

The door to Draco's study was locked shut when we passed into the foyer, Astoria drifting beside me as if in a fog. I led her to the library on the opposite end of the hall, and begun the familiar trek down twisting paths of bookshelves into the secluded spot she called her own, and lately, had invited me to do the same.

When we got there, she didn't sit down, and I didn't either. Her back was to a bookshelf full of her favourite books, and I sat on the reading table itself, watching her downcast face go through the motions - the denial, the anger, the sadness, the uncertainty of what was coming next.

So I made the next move.

"I made a promise," I said to her, pushing off the table and towards her. "I can get you out of here now, if you want. We can plan to get you out later, when you feel up to it. You can tell me to go fuck myself and stay with these books for the rest of your life."

She said nothing, just staring a hole at the floor.

"I'm sorry you had to see it like that, I am, but I've been trying to get you to understand this entire time, and, please, _please_ know that I didn't want it like that. It just happened, and nobody was more surprised than me when he said all that, but -"

"Harry," she whispered. Her whole body was tense as she moved her neck, her head tilting up to face mine. "Don't talk."

I remembered something she said just yesterday, just before the attack on The Burrows and just after I'd broached the topic of saving her.

_"You just said you were calmed by me, by all this... So just stay. No politics talk, just us."_

And I suddenly realised what she meant. I realised it because I wanted it too, but never tried to think about it. The whole time I tried to save her, I thought of her as my friend first and foremost, but I'd forgotten the connection we had back in Hogwarts, that almost flittered into something else... Before Sarah, who I'd laughed and loved and lived and died with. But it's been a year now. A year since Sarah died in front of my eyes. That hole, that yearning for any kind of emotional connection in the middle of this _everything_, the rock in the middle of the raging sea, reaching out for me to grasp...

I grasped it.

With a light step forward, I got as close as I dared to Astoria. She didn't say anything, or even move. The next step, that last step, was mine, and she wouldn't take it for me. A year. It'd been a year since I'd been this close to someone I'd cared for.

And my every instinct screamed at me that I wanted to be closer, and then I was. I cupped her face towards mine with one hand and snaked the other around her back. My lips met hers at an awkward angle at first, and once my memory got working again and I realised it was truly happening, I got into the rhythm of it all, focused on the warmth, and just _moved_. My hand moved away from her face and joined my other around her back, and hers were moving too, up and down my side and sending shivers down my spine.

When I pulled back moments later, her most beautiful expression was on her face: she was smiling, half shy and half coy, her eyes searching mine. I felt I could almost read her thoughts because I was having them too; the want for more clashing with the need to think, the need for more warmth with the want to take a step back and think things through. The want and the need for more, just _more_, won out, and my body pushed hers against the bookshelves, and we were kissing again -

- a darker part of me, dormant but still there, told me, whispered to me that I was taking something of Malfoy's, that what I was doing with _her_, with Astoria Greengrass, was a move that could yet win me the Wizengamot -

But that was overruled by the tingling warmth of our bodies pressed together, a pleasant feeling of opportunities that could've been and ones wasted, or paths not taken. Of the feeling that I, no, _we_ were taking that path now and despite all that was raining on us, it was the right thing. Here, today, against the bookshelves of Malfoy Manor's library, was bliss, and nothing else. Astoria and me, and it felt like all I needed right now.

The moment was soon lost as quickly as it came, making me wonder for a second if it had even been there at all. The look on her face when I pulled away, eyes closed like she was bathing herself in whatever light she could in an environment of nothing but darkness, was pleasant to look at, but a reminder that I had bigger issues right now. She was burying herself in the feeling because she had nothing else; I didn't have that luxury. I felt charged, _alive_, and the urge to go out and do what had to be done overtook me. Malfoy's words, taunting and cold, echoed in my ear, and Astoria's sweet scent tingled on my skin and made every threat and challenge from her husband seem beatable, even for a second, and that was enough.

"Astoria," I murmured. "I have to leave."

And the look that passed over her face made me feel like I'd taken a life jacket from a drowning man, and I let her go before it started to get to me. I wanted to awkwardly reassure her I'd be back, because I would, and at the same time I wanted to thank her, because I was thankful, but I didn't say anything else. I left her with nothing but a sliver of a promise in the air.

When I left the manor, minutes later, I walked down the garden trail with more than a few fleeting thoughts of Astoria floating in my head. Thinking of Astoria made me think of Malfoy, and beating that smug look off of his face never seemed more of an appealing prospect than right now. And unlike the last time he sent me packing down this same path, I didn't feel quite as lost. No, I had a plan.

It was time to strike back.

..::..-.-..::..

_To Be Continued in Chapter Eight: Intention..._

..::..-.-..::..

Post-Chapter Notes:

_- Next Chapter Tease ::_ Harry's new connection with Astoria propels him into action, enacting a risky plan in order to get an advantage over Malfoy, with deadly results. And a zombie or two, because why not.

_- Wizengamot Scorecard ::_ Updated, as of this chapter:

- _Pro-Disclosure_ :: Harry, Neville, Susan, Antioch Boot, Brown, Patil, Hart, Diggory.

- _Anti-Disclosure_ :: Malfoy, Parkinson, Bulstrode, Selwyn, Gale, Harper, Burke.

- _Swing Votes_ :: MacMillan, Smith, Zabini, Cuffe.

- _Former Members ::_ Bill Weasley (Resigned), Isaac Aquilla (Dead).

- _Member Count ::_ Nineteen.

- _Status ::_ No longer evenstalled.

Thanks for reading!

..::..-.-..::..


	8. Chapter Eight: Intention

_Standard Disclaimer_ :: All things Harry Potter belong to JK Rowling and affiliates. This fanfiction is a non-profit venture written for the enjoyment of myself and my readers.

_Dedication :: _To Seratin, Lutris, Zeitgeist, Vira and my friends from DLP, for putting up with my insanity, for reading early drafts, and just being there. Also, to all those who reviewed/favourited/alerted me or my story here on FFnet, cheers. Props to DLP for the feedback, too - anyone reading this who hasn't devoured their C2 on this very site must do so now. It's the first community on the list, for a damn good reason, and I'm more than happy to have this story on it too.

_Preface :: _An awesomely overwhelming flood of response after the end of the last chapter, so thank you for that. I'm glad you're all enjoying the story, and it only gets crazier from here on.

_Previously :: _The Burrows came under a multi-tiered attack. Zombies were Portkeyed into the market square, and mysterious figures in black cloaks went around burning down houses with Everlasting Flame and attacking wizards when their backs were turned. Harry teamed up with Isaac Aquilla, Wizengamot member, to repel various threats, and he soon learned the horrible truth about the attackers: that they were Muggles from Granford, with at least one wizard ally. Aquilla was killed by Warren, one of Fortess's deputies, who was dispatched by Harry soon after. With the revelation that the Muggles are going after the wizards, Harry and his friends have had to scramble to keep this kind of news quiet, as well as getting Odgen to push back the Wizengamot session to better suit their needs. Harry paid a visit to Malfoy Manor and had a confrontation with Draco Malfoy, who, when threatened, calmly and coldly told Harry how wrong he was to assume that he could be saved or that he wanted to save the Muggles. With this revelation made, Harry was rocked, the situation only savoured by Astoria seeing Malfoy's outburst and shattering her own image of her husband, leading her and Harry to share a kiss, an affirmation of the fact Harry has her on his side now, and with that, it's time to plan a retaliation.

..::..-.-..::..

_Chapter Eight of Sixteen: Intention_

..::..-.-..::..

I slept very well last night, and woke to good news from out of town: Ogden had come through for us and pushed back the Wizengamot meeting from today, Sunday, to the coming Wednesday, citing the recent attack on The Burrows and the loss of Isaac Aquilla as an opportune time for all the good wizards and witches of the Wizengamot to take a few days to themselves. The missive said he wanted us to make certain our actions in the next meeting were not be fuelled out of immediate knee-jerk rage for what happened at The Burrows, to let tempers cool before the we all, to quote him, "forget ourselves and end up making a decision we'd end up regretting". Basically, the Wizengamot game was at its highest stakes, and any mistake would be costly. Ogden pushed the meeting back ostensibly to give us all a breather, but really, he was giving me and my friends time to act, not react.

Which is precisely what I intended to do. I'd been in a slump of inaction, wanting to do something but not sure exactly what, for days before now. For a moment it seemed like Draco Malfoy of all people was going to send me to rock bottom after a pointed discussion, but he had tripped himself up at a key moment, and from there, had broke Astoria's loyalty to her husband... In more ways than one. What had ensued between me and her was, to put it lightly, very nice, and I knew it would be pushing me through the day. She was galvanising me into action, because she would help me when I need it. And more than that, more than the Wizengamot, the fact was that her support, her friendship, her and mine's... whatever it was, made things feel clearer, defined why I'd keep on fighting.

And she was why today, I intended to fucking act.

"You've got this?" I asked Su Li, the two of us leaning on the wall of a grimy alleyway, the mouth opening up onto the street where the police station was located; from here we had a view of the front and the side, just in case. "You know, I think they'll start noticing that you've stopped showing up at the hospital."

The diminutive woman's head shrugged, her body concealed by my Invisibility Cloak. It's not like she really needed it, but still. "I don't think they noticed I was there in the first place," she replied. "I've been quiet."

"Good girl," I said. "Right, keep an eye, monitor the charms, make sure Nott doesn't et cetera et cetera. Swap shifts with Ernie when he gets done with the paperwork, or Abe if he's free." She nodded, and I returned the gesture. "All right. See you around."

I emerged from the alleyway and crossed the street, the clouds in the sky drifting in front of the morning sun and cast a dim shadow on the buildings before me. The police station sat in between a disused fire station and a two-story building, the latter which had been converted into storage, of weapons, supplies, and people. Aaron Fortess's best and brightest lived there, including his second-in-command, Juliet, and the man I intended to see, Stanthorpe.

The building was mostly empty when I went in. People were busy attending to their morning duties, though a few were shuffling off to catch some sleep after night sentry shifts, and two or three were carrying supplies out the door. I stepped aside to avoid them, and ventured forward. The foyer area was grey in colour, from the roof to the walls, and even the doors and the carpet being of a similar hue. I turned down a similarly-coloured hallway, trying to recall if Stanthorpe's room was on the left side or the right.

Or, alternatively, I could've asked Juliet, who was standing outside one of the doors, rifle slung over one shoulder, and the glint of her pistol at her hip. She looked as alert as ever, and her eyes tracked my movement as I came closer.

"What do you want, Potter?" she asked, with no particular inflection.

"Came to see Stan," I replied nonchalantly. "You might not've heard, but I'm heading out on Strong's team for a supply run."

She narrowed her eyes. "I heard."

"So can I go in and say goodbye, or...?"

"No."

"There a reason why, Juliet?"

Her posture stiffened. "You know why. Don't even..." An exasperated breath escaped her mouth. "Mistfiends got Liliford. Stanthorpe got close to them, close enough to be... Affected."

The way she said it, the way she seemed ready to strike at me, didn't make me think all that much. Whatever Fortess had been told, however the purebloods had manipulated him, Juliet would know. The mistfiends - the Dementors - would be part of that manipulation; Merlin knows what they were told, but Juliet blamed us. She blamed _me_.

"He just got to sleep," said Juliet. "So no, you _can't_ say goodbye."

"You look like you could use some as well," I noted. "Been spending some nights out?" _Been spending them burning down homes and shooting wizards in the back? _I thought.

She scoffed. "You are unbelievable. All of you. You just can't seem to grasp -" She shook her head. "All I'll say is..." Her voice turned soft, a message just for me, but the tone itself was _hard_. "Watch your back."

It almost felt like she was taunting me, but there was nothing I could do. Act, not react, sure, but acting now just meant walking away. There'll be a time to break Fortess of whatever hold they have on him, but not right now. Very soon, but not today. I shot Juliet a cool look, and said, "Tell Stanthorpe I said goodbye. I'll be back in a day or two."

"Yeah," she said sardonically. "You do that."

..::..-.-..::..

"I really don't know what you see in her," I said to Terry as we left Granford.

"I can think of a few good reasons," he replied with an easy grin. "What can I say? I like tough women."

"Crazy tough."

"Crazy tough it is, then."

We left Granford at ten a.m., sitting in the back of a four-wheel drive Auror Strong had learnt how to handle along the way, Neville sitting beside me, Terry in the front and two other Ministry operatives in the other vehicle, a van with plenty of room for any supplies we'd "come across" along the way. We drove for ten minutes on a poorly-maintained country road, poorly maintained because of the whole apocalypse thing no doubt, but technically we didn't even need to do that much driving. Strong had been insistent that he usually did as much to make sure the Muggles hadn't followed them, and because the cars had to at least look partially used.

"We have a place to drop them off," Strong explained, inching the steering wheel to avoid driving over a corpse on the road. "There we siphon the petrol to make it look like we lost some, but we give that back eventually. Afterwards, we just have to check in every few hours, but apart from that, we'll be free to do what we need to."

"Thanks again for helping us out with this," I said, leaning forward in my seat. "I'm a little shocked we got out so easily."

"I've been in Granford since the start," Strong said with a shrug. "My team always manages to get enough supplies wherever we go, thanks to the Ministry's own scavenging teams. Never enough to cast suspicion, but we always get what they need. And that makes us trustworthy. Fortess sees that I want to go out and grab some supplies, and if I even volunteer to drop by Maple's place to get what he might've been hiding, he'll sign off on it. That I was taking you three didn't seem to be an issue with him; he's been busy enough as of late."

Strong and the other Ministry people all knew about The Burrows attack by now, and even though I hadn't considered it before, Granford's very lucky none of the Ministry operatives hated them enough to retaliate. The Ministry, in that regard, had done well, picking even-tempered people who would put the mission first.

"You must love this part of the job," said Terry. "You and your two friends get to have a few days off. Bonus."

Strong _hmm_'d. "We all get some time off, too, if we need it. The other two in the van back there usually swap out with some of the others for a couple days. Polyjuice Potion is used. It's a system Shacklebolt devised, back when he was Minister, and it works."

We soon arrived at an abandoned garage for Strong to drop off his cars, and after saying our goodbyes, the three of us were off, disapparating immediately to the well-kept lawns of Bones Manor. Compared to Malfoy's, Susan's garden was spartan and simple, and yet thankfully free of chained-up zombies kept for bizarre hunting purposes. The trail to the manor proper wasn't much like Malfoy's either, and the woman who greeted us was not quite Astoria, but Susan was still a welcome sight. After she lead us to her drawing room, I immediately felt comfortable, despite what we had to talk about today.

_Act, not react_, I told myself. And boy, I was about to act.

"I've got plans for today, for all of us," I said to start. "My visit yesterday to Malfoy didn't go quite as planned, but I can safely say that the chances of him playing Quidditch with our side are quite slim. I know that that was probably a foregone conclusion to you three, but it's the way he told me that's pushing me today. He made some valid points we have to cover, and today's the day we cover them. Agreed?" Nods all around. "Okay, where are we on The Burrows attack? Has it hit the papers?"

Susan nodded her head. "Of course. Top story. What's noticeable is that the article didn't offer theories, or anything, on who was behind the attack. Almost like it's being suppressed."

"Robards doing it?" Neville asked.

"I wouldn't be so sure it's just him," I said. "There's Cuffe. He's a vote on the Wizengamot, and if they wanted to buy him, the purebloods would offer him the scoop. Could be that Cuffe hasn't published it as a message to us."

"I think it's more likely Robards is doing it, Harry," said Susan.

"Of course, but I'm going to use that excuse when I visit Cuffe this afternoon," I remarked. "We'll all have busy days ahead of us. I've got a meeting with Ogden in half an hour, lunch with Patil and Brown, and then I have to deal with Hart... I'm taking Malfoy's warnings to heart." I turned to Terry. "I need you to deliver Ernie's letter to his father, and then catch up with your uncle. Ernie's idea, before you ask, and given how they left things, probably a good idea."

"And what are we doing?" Neville inquired, gesturing to himself and Susan.

"Plays into my afternoon plan," I replied. "First off, I have a question. If you had to guess, who is the most expendable on the other side?"

Neville raised his eyebrows curiously. "Expendable?"

"If the purebloods had to choose to get rid of someone, a liability, and replace them with what they think is a sure thing, who would they choose?"

Terry and Susan shared a look. "Well, I doubt they'd sacrifice Selwyn," he said. "He's their best mouthpiece."

"Parkinson and, if what you say is true, Malfoy are safe as well. Those three are the ringleaders, it seems," she said.

"Bulstrode, maybe?" said Neville. "We started up those heritage rumours and they could decide to cut him loose under that pretence."

Susan tapped her finger against her chin, considering. "Burke and Bulstrode don't bring much to the table outside of debts to Malfoy and their votes; Burke has his gambling debts, too, and Bulstrode still owes Malfoy through his father for helping him dodge Azkaban."

"Then there's Harper and Gale," Terry commented. "Latter's Malfoy's protégé -"

"- and Harry already has plans for him," Neville interrupted. "Bill told me."

"Harper's got a history of violence and disruptive behaviour," said Susan. "Cutting him loose would be best if they want this to be clean, to put their Death Eater pasts behind them and push themselves as saviours of the wizarding world. Harper's still getting into trouble even now, and using his status as a vote holder on the Wizengamot to get away with most of it, so, if they wanted to expend someone, they'd choose him."

I nodded to her. "That was my reasoning too. So, why did I ask this? Because I want to evenstall again, and to do that, we're going to kill Harper."

Silence rocked the room. Neville dropped the slice of teacake he'd been holding halfway into his mouth. Susan started shaking her head. Terry was the first to recover, grinning and nodding.

"I like it," he said.

"You cannot be serious," said Susan. "Harry, Ogden gave us a three day delay, and given the rate of how things are moving, that is _plenty_ of time for us to rally our last votes. You can set up lunches with Cuffe and MacMillan, and work on Gale, and -"

"But that might not be enough, Susan," I said calmly. "Evenstalling would get us more time to do all those things."

"But that's not your intention," Neville claimed, peering at me. "You have a plan."

"This is how things are standing right now," I said, "We had eight votes, they had seven votes, and there were six swing votes. We lost Bill, and we have seven. Then I got Diggory's, then Aquilla's, then lost the latter. We're on eight. I get MacMillan, I get Smith, so that's ten. My Gale plan works, eleven, we buy Zabini, twelve. Cuffe gets his lip service, and that's thirteen. But, on the off chance I can't recruit Gale, or we can't buy Zabini, or Cuffe don't want to play nice, we kill Harper now, and they have six votes. But, to break the evenstall as soon as possible, they'll give Astoria her seat. And she, my friends, is going to be voting for us."

Terry laughed. "I _really_ like it. Harry's been playing her this entire time."

"No I haven't," I said hotly, giving him an intense stare for his troubles. Yeah, you better flinch. "I became friends with her again, and she's been helping out, yes, but out of friendship. No -"

I almost said, "Nothing more," but after yesterday, that couldn't be considered quite true. The kiss... it still tingled on my lips as I thought about it, and it was a good feeling.

I pressed on, "But, when we talked after I heard she would be getting her seat, _she_ was the one who told _me_ that she didn't want the Muggles to all die. But, and it gets even better, after Aquilla dies and she knows her husband's responsible, she is even more in our camp. When she gets her seat, the vote is ours. We kill Harper, they lose a vote, and replace him with what they think is a sure thing. But she's not, and they won't know that until the very end. That's how we're going to win."

"With Astoria Malfoy," Susan said sceptically.

"Harry, can you be sure?" Neville asked. "I mean, really, truly, sure."

"Yes," I said simply.

But Susan was not convinced. "But Harper? You want to _murder_ him? We'll be responsible for it too, and for what? On the off chance of a woman who we don't know is genuine, who's married to the enemy? And Harper! Harry, I work on the DMLE -"

"This is no different than the ways you've helped out before," I said coolly. "Susan, we're at war. This doesn't sit right with me, but it's the best shot we have, and Hoster Harper is the best target we have on hand, and no, not because we think he's expendable to the pureblood agenda."

"But I can't know that," Susan said forcefully, and maybe it was because she was linked to the wards, but the whole house suddenly felt uninviting, trying to push me outside as far away as possible.

"You know what kind of man Hoster Harper is. I'm talking scum of the earth, the worst kind of person. Thief, torturer, rapist, murderer. Joined up with Voldemort because hunting Muggles is fun. Has a finger in everything and manages to get away with more than. You want to know what else? A few days ago I went to check on the Ogdens. I found Harper trying to tap into their wards to put Tiberius on edge, but I don't think they quite sent him out there because he was expendable. No, I think he _volunteered_ to try and breach the wards, because he wanted those three women. Now, two out of three of the women living there are genuinely nice people, and the third I wouldn't wish Harper on even if I don't like her much. The kind of fate Harper would put them through is horrifying to think about, and that's enough for me to want to point my wand at him and do the deed."

Susan shuddered, and took a few deep breaths to calm herself. The pressure in the back of my head telling me to leave dissipated, but I still felt uneasy. Susan wouldn't give up _that_ quickly.

"You're talking about murdering somebody on the Wizengamot, Harry," she said in a low voice. "No matter what he's done. Or what he would do. We are on that same ancient body, and these things aren't done. You shouldn't, can't, shouldn't... But..." She swore under her breath.

_Maybe I'll get Ron to kill him if that's what she's worried about, _I thought sardonically.

"Your role will be minimal," I promised her. "Just get me some arrest records, recent ones, so I can get a feel for how many people would want him dead. I'm going to imply and frame a few people if I have to, and I don't doubt they'll deserve the Auror investigation. Susan, please. Just the files."

"It's always about the files," she muttered angrily.

I didn't take that as a no, so I nodded and left her be before turning to Neville, "I want you in Fairlane, watching his house. Ron will join you when he wakes up. I'll catch up, got it?"

Neville nodded slowly. His posture was stiff and he was looking between me and Susan, who still looked angry, but would not be acting on it. The mere fact was that she saw my logic, even if she didn't really trust the Astoria's part of the plan. Harper had to die, and he was going to die today if I had my way.

Big day ahead. Big day of actions speaking louder than words.

..::..-.-..::..

Minutes after my meeting with Ogden, I found myself at his family's cottage again. Though, surprisingly, it wasn't because he was being threatened, or that I needed to use his family in some scheme to do with anything Wizengamot-related. No, nobody was more surprised than me when Ogden asked for another favour, and it was one of those things I just couldn't turn down. Not for Tiberius, not today, even with my planned lunch only an hour away.

Ellie Ogden answered the cottage door, and her smile was wide as she took me in. "Harry!" she exclaimed, stepping forward in an awkward half step and moving her arms at her side in such a way that made me think she was about to hug me, but decided not to. "How've you been? Are we in danger again? Is that why you're here?"

Ellie likely had no idea about the things that had happened over the past few days, about The Burrows and the slow descent into darkness we were all sliding down. "No, actually, your grandfather had a special request."

"Oh," she said, biting her lip. "Do you need to come in?"

_And face your mother? Not likely._ "Actually, it's for you specifically." I reached into my robe pocket, and with a wave of my wand, the matchstick-sixed box grew into its normal size. "Happy Birthday," I said simply, handing it over.

Her eyes widened in shock, but her smile never faltered, and I felt myself smiling back when she flashed it at me.

"Your grandfather misses you, Ellie," I said sincerely. "All of you. He just wanted you to know that, and wish you a happy birthday." I reached into my robe pocket again. "Me too, come to think of it. You never told me when I came here last."

"It didn't seem important," she said with a shrug, still smiling, her cheeks flushed in the cold I was letting into the cottage. "Nineteen, you know. Past majority age, and only my mother and grandmother to celebrate... Didn't seem like telling you was important."

I chuckled. "Shame I didn't have more time to give you a better present, but I still had enough." Like an hour, but a symbolic gift is just as good, especially if you make it yourself - it's why I loved the Weasley family jumpers. I gestured for Ellie to put her grandfather's present down, and she did, and when I gestured for her to stick her wrist out, she nearly broke it she whipped it forward so fast. "Winter is coming, and it's going to be a cold one around here," I told her, looping the little charm bracelet I'd, pardon the pun, charmed. "It's not much, but the Warming Charm there is all mine, and I remember you having a particular liking of them. It'll last too, trust me. As long as you keep in touching your skin, the charm will work on you."

After I clipped it on and she felt the Warming Charm come into effect, this time she didn't hesitate in hugging me, and I let her. It felt good, and I almost felt better about using her and her family as bait for Harper, last week.

_But I'll take care of him too, _I promised myself. _A second birthday present, and if you were one of those kinds of girls, I'd give you his head. For kicks._

"Thanks Harry," Ellie said when we disengaged. "You're a good friend."

"Thank your grandfather too," I reminded her, because, at the end of the day, I was here because a lonely old man wanted his granddaughter to have a happy birthday. And I wanted the same, because Ellie was the kind of person who needed reminding about the light in the darkness, the warmth in the cold. Months in hiding away from everything right after an outbreak claims the lives of her friends, and she needed what she could get.

Like I said, it felt good.

"That hug was for him too," she said mischievously. "If you wouldn't mind passing that along."

I chortled at that. "Wouldn't want to kill him."

Ellie bent down to pick up Tiberius's box, and gestured me inside with her head after she picked it up. "We were just about to serve lunch, so if you want..."

"Yeah, if you'll have me," I said, smiling. I had the time. She led me inside as she started to unwrap her grandfather's present, and I got a good laugh out of the whole thing, in the end. Sometimes, you just had to enjoy the little things. Like Amaris's flabbergasted reaction to me staying for lunch, and not because I was there to harm her family, but because it was her daughter's birthday and she wanted me there.

But I do acknowledge I may've been pushing my luck in asking to come back later if there was cake. But still, worth it.

..::..-.-..::..

From one lunch to another, and from there, deliberately seeking out a newspaper editor to appeal to his human side, and then get in a conversation with a bureaucrat about logistics. Later today, I'd be murdering one of my fellow members of the Wizengamot, and after that, I'd go visit the married woman I kissed yesterday and hope things wouldn't be awkward. Tomorrow, I might sleep in. We'll see.

The offices of the _Daily Prophet _were numerous, and while the exterior exuded professionalism, the inside was made up of corridors and hallways twisting and turning, a hodgepodge of rooms and extensions of different shapes and sizes, and filled with workers bustling back and forth, paper aeroplanes whizzing at head level. One of the bloody things nearly stabbed me in the eye as Cuffe's buxom assistant led me to his office, but I let it off with only a slight burning. Below me I thought I could hear the sound of the printing press in use, grunting, groaning and wheezing its tune to create the night's copies of the _Evening Prophet._

When I entered his office, Cuffe was reviewing a copy, using a large magnification glass and carefully reading every single line, checking every picture. The office was sparse, with a desk and filing cabinets taking up much of the space, and a large window on the side wall projecting an image of a tropical beach, complete with palm trees and perfectly-blue, calming, waves. When the door closed behind me, only then did he look up at me. He was an older man, one who carried it with hard lines and in his stiff, short, hair, and his greeting was only a nod.

"Little empty in here, isn't it?" I said in reply, gesturing to the desk.

"What can I do for you, Healer Potter? Are you here on official business?"

"I'm just curious about how things are being done. I didn't read any suspects for The Burrows's attack in your paper." I snorted. "Bit out of character for the _Prophet_, isn't it?"

"There was a lot to report, and no time for speculations," Cuffe said stonily.

"I can get behind that, yeah. But there's been three papers published since the attack, two dailies and one evening edition. At any time you could've had _something_." I looked him square in the eye; his gaze was properly steely, as most men of his type were. "I can think of a few people who would want you publish something incriminating against the disclosure bill."

"And yet I can also think of a certain Minister who would threaten me with an investigation if I published such a thing."

"So is that it? Robards pressuring you?"

Cuffe shrugged. "Merely speculation on my part, for your sake."

I looked around the office again; the desk was empty of personal touches, no pictures, no nothing. "I wouldn't mind you being straight with me," I said.

"We all want the truth. I try to publish it, and nobody seems to like it when it conflicts with their ideals."

"What truth do you want?"

"Well it's not what _I_ want," he corrected. "A certain group wants to know the truth about what happened in St Mungo's, for example. Wouldn't mind it published, either."

The thought made me frown, but I only said, "You know, I remember that day starting with an article about The Dementor's Stigma. Affected us more than you'd ever know, your truth. And this, right now, with the disclosure bill, might cause more than just a little panic. If you go through with publishing what the agenda wants you to publish, you'll destroy everything."

He leaned forward and steepled his fingers together; the ring on his right hand glinted in my vision. "The truth _will_ hit the papers eventually."

"But it doesn't have to hit tomorrow, or the next day. Not if I can give you something better."

Cuffe didn't even pause. "I'm listening."

"Wait and see. Give us enough time to prove whatever truth that you'll be pushed into publishing isn't the whole truth. If Robards is pushing you, that's why. The disclosure can't fail, not like this. When all of this over... You'll have a hell of a story. Manipulation, assassination, politics and intrigue, the works. All true."

"This will not change my stance on the Wizengamot," Cuffe warned, after considering it for a moment.

"I'm not here to change that."

But one last look at his empty office, and the ring on his finger, made me certain I'd find another way to appeal to him. Not today, however. Plans were in motion and I had to be quick to kill Harper; Cuffe could've taken my "something better" as a warning, and if he was in Malfoy's pocket, he could be warning them soon... I had to act quick. I led myself out of the _Daily Prophet _offices, dodging paper missiles as I did, and walked briskly in the direction of Hogwarts.

My next stop took me to the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

"Mr Stark," I said cheerfully, holding out my hand over his desk. Samuel Stark reached up, took it and shook it, his disdain at the act and my presence evident. "Sorry to drop in like this - I know you're busy, and well, I am too, but I was just looking for an update on how the rebuilding was going."

"It is underway," he said. "Such processes cannot be rushed, and the attack was only the night before last. Protocols are there for a reason, and courtesies must be observed first. The funerals were today, including the recently deceased Wizengamot member Aquilla." He stared at me flatly. "You were not there."

No I hadn't, as much as I regretted that. "I haven't done funerals, not since after the war," I said. "There are other ways to mourn. Not making the death meaningless, for one... I had prior appointments in Granford and with my fellow Wizengamot members... Which is actually why I'm here today."

Stark made a movement in his chair that, to anybody else, would've been a casual lean, but to him, looked like somebody flicking a stiff toothbrush. "Wizengamot business and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement's business are two separate entities, Healer Potter. If you believe a crime has been committed between members of the august body, I will require the Chief Warlock to be here to intervene."

I almost wished he was being sarcastic there, given the crimes the Wizengamot pulled on each other every day. But, this was Stark, and Stark wasn't sarcastic. "It's not that, Mr Stark, but the two groups are linked today. Artemis Hart, both a member of the Wizengamot and a diligent worker for your department, recently went out on a dangerous mission for supplies to the Dementor-infested Cardiff. This close to the final vote, the Chief Warlock and the Minister for Magic both have coordinated to keep all of the members safe and alive, and although it wasn't enough to save Isaac Aquilla, there is a need for reassurances that Hart won't die, and these missions are, while vital, not reassuring to that. It's why I stopped, especially after the encounter with the Dementors..."

Stark's mind worked furiously at that, and it was visible through stiff, distinguished, features. "I understand. Did the Chief Warlock...?"

I handed the wax-sealed note over to him. "Signed it this morning. You have his permission to reassign Auror Hart until the vote is over. While his service is invaluable, the loss of Liliford means that the teams for the supply runs _can_ be reduced, and should. Hart would do well in coordinating the rebuilding process at The Burrows, your liaison of a sort, to expedite the process." I paused. "In a way that accords with protocol, of course."

"Of course." He nodded at me dismissively. "You can go. I'll get this to Hart right away."

I nodded stiffly in return, and turned to leave, but as I did, he spoke. "Strange events of late, isn't it?" he said. "I myself have recently found several of my personal files accessed without permission. Multiple times, in fact."

"Assign an Auror," I said with a careless shrug, though in my mind I was counting: Susan, accessing them for me, once or twice, Malfoy and pals, to relay to Nott. "If there's nothing else, sir, I've got a busy day."

"Do watch your back," Stark warned at the offending body part. "For the sake of the Minister's bill."

There was something eerily familiar in the way he said that, but I let it pass. Everyone was always telling me that sort of thing these days.

I left Stark's tent behind and made my way to Susan's, which while it looked blue and unassuming on the outside was actually three rows of cubicles on the inside. Susan's was in the far corner, and as far as those things went, was small and had few personal effects; a picture of her parents, her aunt Amelia and her uncle Edgar and his family, years and years before all of this. But today there was something interesting near her cubicle - _someone_ interesting, I should clarify.

"Neville," I said, coming up to the two, who just prior had been conversing in low tones. The rest of the tent was partially occupied by Susan's co-workers, but Susan had a Muffling Charm in place to protect what she was saying. When I approached the two, I added a few others to keep prying eyes away as well as ears. "Ron's watching Fairlane?"

"Harper's having lunch," Neville said, his posture awkward and stiff. Beside him, Susan was averting her eyes. "All things good on your end?"

I nodded an affirmative. "Thanks to Malfoy, I knew what to deal with. I got Brown and Patil to take care of their little blackmail, and Hart's been benched from his scavenging team for now; wanted to avoid an accident. Still can't get a read on Cuffe, but Robards is doing the most of the work there, for a change. Ogdens are all good, too." I cleared my throat. "So, what's going on here?"

Susan raised her gaze from her desk to meet mine. She didn't look particularly happy, just like this morning. "We were having a chat," she said. "Do you still intend to go through with this?"

"Of course," I said. "Are we still going to have an argument about this?"

"It shouldn't be done lightly, Harry," Neville said, stepping forward as if to block Susan from me. "You haven't killed anybody since after the war, and even then, not like this. Not premeditated. Not planned. Not a move that you'll make an advantage out of."

"Like they've done any worse?" I asked incredulously. "How many people are dead because of the purebloods, people like fucking Harper?"

"And what about Minister Robards?" Susan pressed. "He's going to have people watching the Wizengamot carefully for these kinds of things, and you yourself said he warned you against moves like this."

"Robards hasn't acted yet, and that won't change."

"You can't know that, especially not now. You just said he was pressuring Cuffe -"

"To save his own arse."

"He might not've acted in _your_ best interests, but that doesn't mean he still won't take you betraying him lightly!"

"It's not going to look like a betrayal of his trust, at all," I said coolly. "Harper's got enough enemies that his death won't look like we're even involved. And by the time we get fingered for it - _if_ we do - we would've had enough time to make an alibi, or have a definitive murderer framed."

"It's still murder, and -"

"Are you denying that Harper doesn't deserve it? Or is just the circumstances you can't abide by?"

"It's not just about him," said Neville. "It's about Astoria too. Susan and I think you might be... attached, in a way you shouldn't be."

I shot him an annoyed look. "Do we really want to go down this road? If _her_ name leaves your mouth -"

Neville held up a placating hand, and Susan nodded. "Things will escalate after this, too, and a lot more people will end up hurt."

I snorted. "More will end up worse than hurt if I do nothing." The two of them opened their mouths simultaneously, but I held them up with a hand. "I'm not changing course. Too much of what I've already done depends on killing that fuck. So, I'm going now. Neville, you're coming with me. Susan, I'll need the file."

I didn't want to stay here and argue; if she wanted, Susan could arrest me right here. I really hoped it hadn't come to that, because these two were my allies, my friends, dammit. To have them throw Astoria in my face like that... They were worried, but I wouldn't steer them wrong. I was just _acting_.

Neville broke first, shooting Susan a heavy look before leaving the tent. She sighed unhappily and picked Harper's file off of her desk and handed it to me.

I pocketed it, said nothing, and joined Neville outside the tent. He was hovering near the mouthflap of the tent as I made my way out, and I wordlessly indicated he should follow me and not run back to Susan.

"We have a job to do right now," I told him seriously. "Susan gave me what I needed, so we leave her now. We'll have my reckoning later, got it? Let's go."

Reluctantly, Neville followed.

..::..-.-..::..

Neville and I apparated to an alleyway quite unlike any alleyway I'd ever seen. It was remarkably clean, for one thing, free of rubbish of any kind, and was wedged in between two white townhouses that even from the side screamed, shouted and shrieked, _money_.

That was about the norm for Fairlane, one of the four major wizarding settlements after the outbreak. Hogsmeade was bustling, Godric's Hollow was rustic, The Burrows were haphazard, and Fairlane was just stinking rich. A long time ago several pureblood families created their own little gated community of townhouses, practically manors in their own right, with the intention of it being the prime location for the richest of the rich. Well, families like Malfoys made bigger places on their own lands, and the dream of Fairlane stayed just that, a dream. It got worse when the Muggles wanted to build in the area, oblivious to the wizards already living there. To save their homes, one of the families Confunded the Muggles into building around them, and soon Fairlane had neighbours, and lots of them. Come the zombie apocalypse a few years down the line, and those neighbours became corpses and the purebloods reclaimed every house as their own. Harper, Burke, Selwyn and many more called Fairlane home.

One end of the alleyway led to the main street - the fair lane - while the other led to the back of the houses. All of the houses, from the front or the back, were similar in being old, Victorian, statuesque buildings, painted stark whites with black bricked roofs. We ventured out to the backyards, which had their own little charms. You know, the usual: fountains, hedges, rosebush arrangements, a zombie chained to a post...

Well I think it's safe to say that the Muggles who lived here once hadn't exactly _left_.

"Pretty twisted, isn't it?" said Ron, coming up alongside us out of my Invisibility Cloak. He looked remarkably pale in the sunlight, his expression grim as he looked at the chained zombie. "Shame Harper doesn't have one - would make for an easier frame that way."

Neville looked appalled. "No way they'd get away with this. The Ministry -"

"Has bigger concerns," I said. "I've seen this before. It's their new thing. Can't hunt Muggles, so why not hunt undead Muggles."

"But if we told the Ministry, Susan would -"

"She would be stonewalled," I said firmly. "Something Malfoy said about it makes me think they intend to get away with it as long as there are bigger concerns. Which there are. Leave it Neville."

Ron looked between the two of us with a measured expression on his face. "Something happen between you two?"

"Minor disagreement over what's going to happen next, but since Susan's not going to do anything, I don't think he will either. Come on, show us to Harper's place."

Harper lived in the second-last house on the right side at the far end of the lane. The view of his backyard told us nothing, apart from the fact he seemed to like marble birdbaths; there were a dozen of the things, of all shapes and sizes, huddled under a tall, leafless, elm tree. Ron and I poked at the wards for a bit and found a way in easily enough, but the moment we did Ron informed me Harper wasn't home at the moment.

"So where would he be right now?" I asked. "Neville said he was off to lunch..."

Ron and Neville shared a look. "Well, the only pub around here, if you'd call it that, is the _Serpent's Delight_," said Ron.

"But all of Fairlane are just these houses, so it's a fancy-looking pub, to say the least," Neville said. "Also, if what I heard is true, it's also a nice play for the seedier side of Fairlane to meet. Black market deals, illegal gamble on whatever they can bet on, and, well, the usual place any good gentleman would never be caught at by their wives, of which Harper is a regular member because he's not charming enough to have a wife."

I nodded in understanding. "A brothel."

"More than a few girls were orphaned by The Stigma, witch or Muggle," Ron said darkly. "Nowhere else to go."

But like the zombies chained up in backyards like pets, the unfortunate whores of Fairlane's brothel would be staying there for a while longer. It was just something we couldn't prevent right now, and if we made a fuss, chances were it would still continue, but with more secrecy involved. That right there kind of summed up things in the wizarding world, didn't it? Go us.

"So Harper will be there all afternoon, won't he?" I asked rhetorically. "Hmm... If you want to do something right, no use waiting for it. I have a plan."

To cut a long story short, the plan involved magical disguise, threats, menacing looks, blasting wall fixtures, cursing the names of Harper and his mother, interrupting a session with one of the _Serpent's Delight's_ most expensive ladies of the evening/afternoon, frog-marching a man two times my size down a set of stairs, a bit more cursing and threats, a trip down an alleyway and past the backyards, a temporary diversion in somebody else's backyard to round up the man after he loosed himself from our grips by elbowing Ron in the nose, an even longer diversion to save Neville from being eaten by the hungry zombie chained up in the backyard we had to fetch Harper from, and finally, a limping trip to Harper's house. The plan finally ended at the base of the staircase leading to the first floor inside Harper's house. The man himself went down with a _thunk_ against the steps.

"Hold him there," I snapped to Ron, whose wand did the work for him and pinned Harper down with a Petrification Jinx. I rummaged in my pocket and found Harper's wand, procured while Harper was busy using his other wand on that poor girl back in the brothel. I brought the stubby thing before Harper's still-moving eyes and crushed it in between my fingers as hard as I could, until the wood yielded and ended up on the floor in two pieces. "How's the nose, mate?"

Ron spat out a mouthful of blood that was trickling down from his nose. "M'fine. Shame _he_ won't be."

"Yeah..." I said absently. "Do you think we made it clear enough, back in the pub?"

"We went around screaming after Harper for the gold he owed us," said Neville. "I think the point got across."

Harper himself had done us a favour in selling it too, even though he hadn't realised; when confronted by angry wizards he didn't know looking for their gold, Harper's first reaction had been, simply, "I don't know nothin' about no gold." Which he soon followed up with several suggestions of things I could do with the wand I was pointing at his face that involved my mother.

It's a wonder he hadn't been put in this situation before.

"So who exactly are we trying to frame here?" Neville asked, holding his hand to his side where a stitch had started up after the encounter with the zombie back there.

"Well, at least a dozen people in the _Serpent's Delight _alone probably have Harper holding the gold he owes them. The file Susan gave me has a list of their names, and well, if we break into the safe he keeps under his bed -" Harper's eyes widened in his petrified state. "- and no, I didn't know for sure you did until you just confirmed it now, but I figured it was a good guess considering how mind-shatteringly stupid you are. Anyway, we steal his gold too, to make it look like the deed was done by a bunch of hired wands courtesy of an angry man who Harper's indebted too. Easy as could be. Really, I wouldn't be shocked if his friends found him even slightly expendable."

"We should get this done quickly," Ron remarked. "The blokes back there will be calling the Aurors eventually, even if they spend a few hours hiding their own little crimes first."

"They could alert Malfoy before that," warned Neville.

"Right, either way, we should get it done." I leaned over Harper's frozen form, making sure his eyes could take in every single one of my features. Then I dropped the glamour charm. "Hey Harper," I said, and his eyes lit up with an impossible amount of rage, a fire that told me he still wanted to fight, and was stubbornly refusing what was coming next. "Gotcha. _Avada Kedavra._"

The jet of acid-green light spat out in an arc and hit him him the neck. The petrification spell dropped, his body slumped, and Harper's glassy eyes stared into nothing, that mad fire quenched for good.

I sighed and took a step away from the body. The Killing Curse, fatally effective because of how much I'd wanted Hoster Harper dead, for all reasons logical and illogical, took a lot out of me. The intention to kill had been enough to kill him, and... for a moment I stood there wondering why I didn't just crush his brains with some other spell; any other spell would've done the trick... The Unforgivables were unforgivable, the type of magic I didn't want to throw around willy-nilly, but I just did without realising it. I sighed again. "Ron, the safe. Neville, the door. I'll take him."

Hours later, after the citizens of Fairlane would've had time to hide their dirty laundry and alert the Aurors, Harper's body would be found hanging off the tree in his backyard. He'd be hanging off a branch by a thin, razor-sharp, wire around his neck, the same wire tied around his arms and legs, pinning them back like he was a dead animal dripping blood into his birdbaths. It was a brutal way to set a body, but necessary to sell the story... And more than a little satisfying. By the time dinner rolled around, the Aurors would still be staring up at his body, unsure what to make of it. Because, in the end, when the list is compiled of all those who Harper owed a debt or had ever wronged, it would be so long that the sheer number of possible suspects would almost be overwhelming. The Wizengamot was officially down to eighteen members, evenstalled until it could be resolved.

I had plans to go see Astoria this afternoon, to test the waters after our kiss and see if there was something that could be salvaged there.

But first, I had to deal with Susan Bones.

..::..-.-..::..

I found her in her office tent, empty of everyone but her; it was late in the afternoon and people had started to go home, but Susan had been waiting for me. I walked the length of the tent and to her cubicle, dropping the file on her desk and erecting a series of privacy spells. The candle lighting her desk was grim in dimness, and the woman sitting at it grimmer. Red hair was listless in a tight, professional, braid, coming apart at the edges and strands frizzing on the sides of her head. In greeting, I placed Harper's file on her desk.

"I got what I needed," I told her. "So thanks."

She took it carefully, and placed it underneath another stack, her eyes never leaving her desk. "Harry, what happened today might yet haunt us."

"I killed him," I said quietly. "It's my fault, my burden... Does what happened today change your vote, Susan?"

She shook her head.

"Why, exactly?"

"Because the bill's purpose is right," she replied instantly. "Because we're building towards a better world, abolishing a system that was for the old world, and even then, still started wars. Because right now, when all's said and done, it's about survival, and the disclosure bill is going to bring the Muggles in to survive too, because they're human beings too, and we'll need as many of them left if life will ever go on."

"Good. That's what I want too."

"But your actions -"

"Were too much, for you? Even though you knew we'd have to do some shady deals every now and then."

She hesitated. "I just don't..."

"You volunteered to help me, and you knew that you'd be involved in something like this," I pointed out.

"This bill can't be tainted by this," she said firmly. "It _cannot_. How can I be sure that your actions aren't about revenge and beating Malfoy, Harry?"

"I didn't go into Granford with the intention of just winning," I said indignantly. "How can you even say that?"

Susan's eyes flared, and she stood from her chair and looked at me seriously, calculatingly, through her visible anger. "Draco Malfoy is married to a woman you care about. You can't deny that."

I couldn't, so I didn't. "The Wizengamot, and this bill, are my priority. I have had so many opportunities to think lately. I'm not being impulsive, I'm not being rash, I'm just doing something, before more people die and the purebloods come off looking like the better party. It's war. But... This is a means to an end. The Wizengamot game, my vote, are provisional to the bill. When all of this is over, I'm resigning."

That had always been my preferred option, from the very start. When the bill has passed and all's said and done, I'd like to be back Healing, spending my days out in The Burrows with Teddy and my friends... and now, maybe Astoria.

"When I resign," I told Susan, "You'll be free to start an investigation, to persecute me for my crimes. The part you played, the part Neville played, and everyone else, will not be on trial. It'll just be me. Ogden and Robards can see to that."

The declaration cooled her temper, and her eyebrows were raised. "You would take the fall?"

"If the bill's integrity was called into question because of me, yes. That's my intention."

"Then..."

"You, Susan Bones, are needed for the future," I said seriously, because she was. She was better than I was, a just and righteous person, but that wouldn't win her the Wizengamot. "After all this, you'll play a part in the new world, an important part. But for now, your part won't be so glamourous. Look the other way, just this once, for me."

She went quiet, pensive, her gaze casting from the file on Harper, hidden in that stack, then to me. She looked defeated. "This has spiralled out of our control," she said, almost whispering. "Neville and I... were just concerned."

"Thank you for that," I said earnestly. "And for everything else."

She nodded. I don't quite know what was going through her mind in the end, but it was maybe it was as simple as her always knowing she would comply, but putting up a token fight was better than putting up no fight at all.

Then she surprised me. "What else do you need?"

My eyebrows raised, and I gestured for her to continue.

"You're going back to Granford tomorrow morning. We have three days until the meeting. Now's the best time to tie up any more loose ends. You handled Hart, Brown and Patil, and Terry's handling his uncle, but what about you, Harry? Do you have any loose ends that you need me to take care of?"

I saw it for what it was: a peace offering. There was _one_ thing I hadn't looked into, or even thought about, in a while. "Archie Forscythe," I said after a moment of trying to remember his name. "Need to make sure he's not going to talk."

"Who's Archie Forscythe?"

"Long story, but basically, he's someone they could use against me." Cuffe's comment, about them looking for the truth about the St Mungo's lockdown, had triggered that thought. "Also, if you want to do something legitimate, investigate the source of the Everlasting Flame used in The Burrows attack."

"I've already started looking into it."

"Good. See, even if they throw the Muggles at us as the attackers, if we can trace the enchanted fire back to them, then it's our advantage."

"They would've covered their tracks," she warned. "But you already know that..."

"Still worth a try, isn't it?" I said easily, dispelling the privacy spells around us. "And Susan? Thank you, again."

She sat down at her desk, prim through weariness. "You're welcome."

And with that, we parted. As much as she wouldn't like it, Susan would do what she needed to do; divert attention away from us, aid me in Wizengamot business, and just generally be there. It had been a tough day for everyone, and maybe acting so quickly without letting them know why I'd gone on the offensive hadn't been my best move. But to me, it was the simplest thing: The Burrows, Aquilla, Granford... and Astoria.

I was planning to visit her now, so we could talk about yesterday; I just hoped she wasn't having any doubts...

Halfway to the Hogwarts gates, I was accosted by someone familiar.

"Harry, I need help," said Grey Gale.

In reply, I grabbed him by the upper arm and dragged him to the nearby Herbology greenhouses. I released him and snapped up the usual spells. "Approaching me in public?" I asked him. "You really could've done that a _lot_ smarter."

He paled. "Look, I'm sorry, but -"

"Why are you really here, Gale?"

"I just heard about Harper."

It hadn't even been half an hour, but I wasn't surprised. "And?"

"I don't want to end up like him," he said. I say anything, and he prattled on, nervous. "Look, Malfoy got me my seat, you know, and helped me out, so I owe him, but... The others keep planning things, big things, and I can't... After what happened to The Burrows, I don't... I want out."

"Maybe you should've thought ahead of time about this," I said, though inside I was cheering just a bit. There was a certain irony in the fact that, after being told by Malfoy not to approach Gale, it was the younger man who approached _me_. Thank you, timing. There was just one problem. "Gale, a friend once filled me in on your life, and how you got to this point. I don't know the why of it. So tell me."

He hesitated. "It's not important."

"It is. It might just be the most important thing in your life. All that came before."

"You know I grew up with Muggles."

"I do. Your parents."

"Yeah, they were," he said. "And my aunt, my uncles, my cousins, my grandparents... Everyone. Thought I was just normal too, until I got my letter."

"And how did they react? Your parents, your family? How did they like magic?"

A little smile bloomed on his face. "They were good about it. They were encouraging, and paid for the books, because it was a talent, they said, a rare talent that had to be cultivated. I wanted to be a wizard, and they wanted me to be happy."

"That's good, isn't it?"

"Yeah..."

I snorted. "My relatives were Muggles, and they were absolute bastards. Not just about magic itself, about _everything_, because of who I was. I was unwanted, unloved, and well, here I am."

Gale looked startled at that. "But, you, and -"

"Now, I want to note the difference between us. You're raised by Muggles who loved you, and you turned against them. You joined up with Draco's group to save your own skin, and that I can forgive, especially given the war. But now, with the Wizengamot, what's your excuse? Malfoy may've saved you, but you still had to have loved your parents -"

"But they're dead," he interrupted.

"And so that means all the other Muggles die?" I asked. "Really now? Out of the two of us, I've got more reason to want them dead, and I don't. The Muggles attacked The Burrows, and you know that, but that doesn't mean I want them dead, or facing justice, when they were manipulated, pushed and prodded, into it. It's wrong to condemn them like that, and you condemning them because Draco Malfoy said so is even worse."

His expression turned forlorn, _young_. Merlin, I still felt like a kid half the time, and Grey was younger than me. Hard to believe. "You're right, you're right."

I eyed him seriously. "Are you a hundred percent sure you want out? If you're lying, if this is a trick... Well, what happened to Harper..."

Gale gulped, but said, "... Yes."

"Then we go to the DMLE, right now," I said, walking around the corner of the greenhouse and -

"Wait."

I waited.

"They won't just let me go so easily," he said, not exactly in realisation. "They'll do worse to me than what you did to Harper."

"But the longer you stay, the bigger the chance -"

"I'm not entirely helpless," he interrupted, joining me up ahead. From here we could see the front lawn, with Ministry workers heading off home - to the castle or otherwise - as the sun slowly began its descent to set over the Great Lake. The DMLE tents were a flurry of activity as the senior Aurors led the trainees through various exercises on the Quidditch Pitch. I could see Lara Wilkinson's sunny-blonde hair blowing in the breeze, and Gale looked at it, smiling slightly to himself.

I nudged him. "So you're saying you want to help me from the inside?"

He nodded. "You don't think much of me, do you?" I shrugged in reply, and Gale continued with a wan smile, "You're so right about the Muggles, but... I still owe a debt to Malfoy. I'll continue to help him, _but_ if you were to take some information I could give you, and use it to disband the agenda... Then I could be free."

"I still can't be sure this isn't a trick," I admitted. "I'll need a gesture. And soon."

"I will," Gale promised. "If that's what you need."

"I do respond well to them."

The moment he walked away the gears turned in my head. Circumstances with Harper's death could have indeed frightened him into turning his coat to me, but I wouldn't quite take it so easily; Malfoy was more than capable of organising something like this. Hell, the parallels to Astoria alone, could be a message. Did he know, was that it? Was this his way of telling me, or...?

I shook my head of it. I could be cautious, but paranoia wouldn't get me anywhere. I'd take Gale at face value until proven otherwise, and Astoria...

Her gesture, our kiss... it had weighed on my mind all day. Her guilt, her doubts... I could hear them all running through my head, because I was having them too. We'd witnessed the colder side of Draco Malfoy, she'd been scared enough and worried enough to reach out for her only other connection, and I had taken it, because I didn't know what was going to come next... And today, I had done a lot of things because of that moment, that gesture, that kiss.

And if I wanted to see if tomorrow was just as worth acting on, despite the challenges I'd get thrown at me, I needed to go see Astoria, and now.

..::..-.-..::..

There were all sorts of awkward scenarios weighing on my mind as I walked the trail to Malfoy Manor. It was the first encounter after our first, ahem, _encounter_, and I expected a bit of awkwardness at first. I knew Malfoy would be out for a time; me murdering Harper had probably gotten him out, and it was might've just been planned that way but for the sake of my morality I won't claim to have murdered somebody so I could distract a married woman's husband away and make a booty call without any interruptions. The other potential awkward part was that neither of us made any plans to meet up again, for either taking it further than just kissing or what we used to do before in the library, and I was very worried about showing up at her door and having a conversation that would go like, "So, I know you _didn't_ say it wasn't a one-time thing, so you wanna another go 'round?"

However, all awkwardness fled my mind when Astoria answered the door, wearing a smile and a sheer white dress, see-through in places that gave me a window into the fact she was wearing something lacy and red underneath. For the sake of her own morality, I doubt she had _planned_ to be wearing that, but I mean, come on, it couldn't have worked out better.

After a moment of just staring at each other, her expression became unsure and uncertain. "Harry..."

"Draco's not home?"

She shook her head. "You can come in, if you'd like."

"Only if you are," I said softly, and that got me inside. We lingered in the foyer for a moment, her fingers fiddling with the hem of her dress, my hand running through my hair. "Well, this is awkward."

Astoria let out a breath of air, humoured and exasperated. "Longest twenty four hours of my life."

"Felt just as long to me too," I remarked. "I, um, don't quite know how to go about this. We could go into the library and talk for a bit, unless... Is Draco going to be home soon?"

She shook her head again, blonde tresses falling in front of her face.

"On second thought," I said, "Let's go for a walk."

She looked at me, confused. "Where?"

"Just outside. The gardens will do."

"I don't know..."

"Nice day for it, come on." I held out my hand and, after a hesitant moment, she took it. Her grip was warm, and felt familiar in a good way.

We stepped out of the manor and into the setting sun's glow, bathing Astoria in orange and shining off her hair, showing through the dress and reflecting off her skin. I had to wonder if she actually had left the house in the entire time she had lived here. It made me sad to think that, but it wouldn't shock me; her husband had an unfortunate habit of keeping zombies in their gardens, after all.

The undead were thankfully absent as I led her down the trail. She seemed to realise where we were going, and stopped walking immediately.

"Harry..."

"I know, I know," I said understandably, turning us around so we could both see to the end of the trail. "But... there are the gates, Astoria. You can just walk out."

"I can't."

"I know, I'm not pushing, just saying. It's scary, to take that step out, and you'll need someone here. I want to be that person."

Her eyes met mine; blue and beautiful. "Why are you saying this?"

"To remind you about the stakes," I said seriously. "And the reward. The life you can lead outside these gates, outside this mansion, is close, damn close. I've already promised to be there every step of the way, and... I'm telling you this now because we kissed, yesterday. It wasn't planned, but it happened. I can imagine your guilt, your fears. I'm here for you, Astoria."

"I know," she said, echoing my tone to a tee; soft and placating, a gentle reminder of the light in the darkness that can yet be grasped for. "I want that, you want that, but there's still the big issue."

"Your husband."

She nodded. I was about to remind her about everything he'd done, before she could have any serious doubts, when we were interrupted by a dead thing's droning. My wand snapped out of its holster and into my hand as I pivoted on the spot and faced the approaching zombie. It was once a young man with thick, meaty, arms, and was now a bloody and thorn-covered monster, crawling from under the rosebushes on its solitary leg. A great chunk was missing from the side of its head; not enough to drop it for good, apparently. One of Draco's remains, free of its chain; if I had to guess, it had been on the other leg.

"Your husband," I said, pulling Astoria close to my side; she came, willingly. "Is not a nice person. This is what he does. We're both guilty of things, betrayals and acts we wish we didn't do, but... it has to be done." I thought of Harper, and of Susan. "It just_ has_ to be done."

I moved Astoria from my side and to in front of me, my eye level looking over the top of her hair to the approaching undead. We took a step back in unison, and I inhaled her scent, the feel of her body melded against mine, and revelled in that feeling for just a moment.

"Your wand," I whispered, and she pulled it from a pocket on her dress, one I hadn't even noticed. Hers was made of birch, long and bendy, and fit in her hands perfectly. Her fingers played with the wood as I continued to whisper, "You know the Piercing Curse?"

She nodded against me.

"It's a scary world out there," I told her. "But you have to take your first step... Just not alone." She shivered against me, though the mood was ruined by the weak moan of the determined corpse dragging itself along. "Aim for the forehead, just between the eyes. Hitting one of the eyes works too, but if you aim for the centre mass, you have more of a chance of hitting something to get the spell in. The force will drill through the flesh, through its skull, then pierce its brain. It will die instantly, so... Take a deep breath, flick your wand, and... Let it all out."

Astoria took a deep breath, flicked her wand, and struck the zombie in the dead centre of the forehead. The spell would drill itself in and spurt brains and blood on the immaculate grass, but we didn't notice; our lips were fused together by the time it finally stopped moving.

She led me into the manor soon after, to a night filled with endless possibilities and unlimited warmth.

Today, I acted. Tomorrow, and all the days to come, I intended to do the same.

..::..-.-..::..

_To Be Continued in Chapter Nine: Intercepted..._

..::..-.-..::..

Post-Chapter Notes:

_- Next Chapter Tease ::_ Ogden comes under a more serious threat, and Harry's forced to make a dangerous move. Meanwhile, a new conversation with Theodore Nott brings something new and terrible to light. And... no zombies. Oh don't worry, it'll be made up for very soon.

_- Wizengamot Scorecard ::_ Updated, as of this chapter:

- _Pro-Disclosure_ :: Harry, Neville, Susan, Antioch Boot, Brown, Patil, Hart, Diggory.

- _Anti-Disclosure_ :: Malfoy, Parkinson, Bulstrode, Selwyn, Gale, Burke.

- _Swing Votes_ :: MacMillan, Smith, Zabini, Cuffe.

- _Former Members ::_ Bill Weasley (Resigned), Isaac Aquilla (Dead), Hoster Harper (Dead).

- _Member Count ::_ Eighteen.

- _Status ::_ Evenstalled.

- _Pending Members :: _Astoria Malfoy (Greengrass seat).

Thanks for reading!

..::..-.-..::..


	9. Chapter Nine: Intercepted

_Standard Disclaimer_ :: All things Harry Potter belong to JK Rowling and affiliates. This fanfiction is a non-profit venture written for the enjoyment of myself and my readers.

_Dedication :: _To Seratin, Lutris, Zeitgeist, Vira and my friends from DLP, for putting up with my insanity, for reading early drafts, and just being there. Also, to all those who reviewed/favourited/alerted me or my story here on FFnet, cheers. Props to DLP for the feedback, too - anyone reading this who hasn't devoured their C2 on this very site must do so now. It's the first community on the list, for a damn good reason, and I'm more than happy to have this story on it too.

_Preface :: _Another fun chapter ahead, and I start to get into a bit of the origin of The Dementor's Stigma here. A reviewer has brought up the status of the rest of the world, and while I've said it before, I'll repeat it here: yeah, the whole world got hit by the outbreak and zombified. The ICW - International Confederation of Wizards - isn't a thing anymore because the international wizarding Ministries were never as large or stable as the UK's (Though we all know stable's not quite the way to put it), and things just sorta collapsed outside the UK, wizarding wise. That's the whole plot impetus behind breaking the Statue of Secrecy in the Wizengamot; the Statue was created by the ICW, and without them around to break it, the UK wizarding world's created the disclosure bill for the Wizengamot to vote on. Tada.

And to the reviewer who asked about nuclear power plants, assume the Muggles turned them off in time, or at least prevented the UK from becoming a nuclear wasteland. Or, to make a lulzy mental image, assume the Dementors totally did it. They're heroes!

_Previously ::_ Harry took advantage from Draco Malfoy's threats to the various votes on his side, quickly enacting plans to keep Hart safe, Brown and Patil's business dealings out of focus, and avoiding Grey Gale. His next plan involved the murder of Harper in order to set things back to evenstall, a move that would make the pureblood agenda put Astoria into her seat, and from there Harry would use a newfound connection to ensure her vote towards the bill. As the next meeting lurks in the coming Wednesday, Harry was also forced to deal with potential mutiny from Neville and Susan over Harper's murder, convince Cuffe to not report on the Muggles attackers of The Burrows, and secured Gale's help when the young man approached him personally; though the thought of a trap was not far from Harry's mind. After a day of acting in order to benefit the Wizengamot vote, Harry visited Astoria and affirmed a promise to keep her safe, and the two consummated their connection...

..::..-.-..::..

_Chapter Nine of Sixteen: Intercepted_

..::..-.-..::..

As much as I wanted to, I couldn't spend the night with Astoria. Her husband was going to be back home at around midnight, she had said, and while it sent a jealous pang through me, I had to go. I'd left her lying on the bed as she was in the process of getting dressed again, the first step being lacy, black, underwear hugging her body in ways she knew I would love; hell, that any sane man would love. Her hair had been tousled, and her dimples were showing on her face as she smiled at me, a smile of fondness and promise for more encounters to come. It had been very hard to leave that behind, but the mental image took me straight to sleep in my bed at St Mungo's last night.

I was woken up by the door to my room opening and closing. The room was dark and warm, but that didn't tell me much about the current time of day; these rooms were for Healers working all hours, and were always as dark and as temperate as you'd want it.

So, not knowing if I was being visited by a nighttime intruder or not, I grasped for my wand and held it in preparation...

"Harry, wake up," said the voice of Tiberius Ogden. "We need to talk."

"Right..." I said, rolling over, keeping my wand at the ready underneath the covers, and looking at the older man expectantly. I couldn't make out much more than his outline in the darkness, but he took care of that by lighting the bedlamp next to my bed. With the light I could see that Ogden looked more tired and worn than he had when I'd seen him yesterday. "Have you slept, Tiberius? What's going on? Why aren't you in your office?"

"I got a package last night," he said, an audible sigh in his voice.

My blood rushed cold through my veins like an icy wave. I bolted upright in the bed. "A package. A package of what? Is Ellie -"

"No, they're fine, they're all fine," he said, but didn't appear to want to help his own assurances by adding, "I hope."

"You hope?"

"I cannot say the same for me, however."

Okay, now I was going from slightly worried to outright concerned and scared all at once. "Tiberius, what exactly was in the package?"

"A letter, of which the handwriting I was not familiar with - and I did check it against samples from the contingent of dissenters on the disclosure bill - detailing some things worth thinking about... before it spontaneously combusted. Also in the package was a lock of hair and a Buchart's Flame. You'd know what a Buchart's is, I take it."

I nodded. "Of course. Diagnostic enchantment device, popular in the last two centuries. St Mungo's phased it out when Strahl finished his variation in the fifties, but it's still common in more than a few homes; not every witch or wizard can read a diagnostic charm, but a Buchart's is a lot easier to use." Of course, more than a few people had been mislead by the simplicity of Buchart's Flame, denying themselves a proper check-up at St Mungo's because of it and suffering the consequences. More than likely, that meant death.

Ogden settled himself on the end of my bed, his shoulders slumped. "The letter indicated that I put the hair into the Buchart's, and when I did, it confirmed that the hair belonged to somebody suffering an iron deficiency... such as Auror Mayhew, one of the two guarding my family's cottage. Now I wasn't assured they just didn't use somebody else's hair, but the letter asked me if I'm willing to risk it, and then..." He took in a deep breath. "It asked me to put a drop of my blood into the Flame."

Out of his pocket came a small egg-shaped object, gold in colour and with a small cup-like shape carved into the top. Ogden flicked his wand and a flickering flame appeared on the cup, orange and yellow and red in colour, signalling the default state of the Buchart's. He hovered his thumb over the flame, pinched at the skin with two other fingers particularly hard until a drop of blood squeezed out from a partially healed-over prick mark. The blood dripped off of his finger and landed in the flames. They turned black, instantly; black as black could go, oil and midnight and nothing else but.

"Are you sure?" I asked him.

He nodded. "After I checked the Buchart's they sent me, I checked my own, just in case it was cursed... It wasn't. The result was the same, and I don't need you tell me I'm dying."

I flicked my wand, twisted the handle, and performed a Strahl's Variation of the Diagnostic Charm. The results told me that, yes, he was dying, and he was dying extraordinary quickly for an older man who'd been healthy as could be this time two days back. "Poison?" I said, to myself and him at once.

"The elves check my meals, but they can be gotten around. Though I find that it's more than likely they put the poison in my scotch." He brought the Buchart's up to his face and extinguished the black flame with a heavy breath. I caught a glimpse of the dark bags under his eyes and the defined age lines on his face right before the flame went out. "I tried a bezoar, and several other antidotes, but it's too late. I don't know what it is, but the letter said it would make it look... natural. A tired old man dying in his sleep, overcome by the stress..." His face turned disheartened, more than usual. "Without ever seeing his family before he dies."

My head began to pound heavily, and my heart wasn't much better about it, as well as being faster. Dammit, I knew Ogden would always be a target, didn't I? Rally, Harry, rally. Act, now.

"What did the letter say, apart from all that? They wouldn't have poisoned you for no reason, Tiberius." My mind worked furiously. "And did they offer an antidote of some kind?"

"It's a specific poison, and it has a specific antidote, they said."

"Good. That's good." Not really; I would at least hope it was something I could treat myself, without having to rely on the people who poisoned him in the first place. "And what do they want in exchange?"

"The hairs from Auror Mayhew are to prove they have a way to get to my family when they want. You yourself said the Fidellius could be gotten around. They'd use one of the Aurors to do it, and somebody would walk into the trap."

"It was always going to be a possibility," I said.

"They want my wife, Amaris and little Ellie moved out of their safe house," said Ogden. "They want them at Granford."

It dawned on me at once, and a sick feeling sunk into my gut. "Insurance. If they're in Granford, and if I'm there, when the purebloods act to destroy the place, they know my first priority would be to get them out, to save them. If I act too much, they'll get to them. Hell, they probably want to trap me in Granford in order to prevent any harm coming to your family."

As far as moves went, it was a good one for Malfoy and his ilk to play. They knew I needed Ogden, especially now. The Buchart's Flame was pitch black, and a potent poison used on an old man would kill him before Wednesday's meeting. That kind of loss wouldn't just be a temporary setback, it would mean outright destruction of everything we've worked for. Whoever would take his position as Chief Warlock could abolish the disclosure bill, and any other future attempts at something similar. Even putting somebody like MacMillan on the throne would still end badly for us. Nobody on our side had enough seniority for the position, that was the truth of it. Ogden was our best bet.

"We're moving them today," I told him firmly. "No other option."

He sighed tiredly. "I was afraid you'd say that."

"You get that antidote as soon as possible, and I'll comply with their demand. The three of them will be in Granford by this afternoon at the latest, so tell them that."

He sighed again in a resigned sort-of way. "Harry, I will die for their safety if that's what I have to do. That is more important the disclosure bill."

A flare of annoyance, understanding annoyance but still annoyance, hit me. "It is not, especially not now. And if you allow yourself to die they'll be in even more danger, because Mayhew's hairs proved they can break the Fidellius. When they get to Granford, no danger will come to them, I promise you." Even if I have to sacrifice something important along the way. "I used them as bait once, but not again. They'll be kept safe as long as you and I are properly marginalised. We step out of line and they'll be hurt, and since I still intend to step out of line, I have to protect them. And I will. I assured everyone who went into Granford with me that I wouldn't let them be harmed, and I mean the same and much more to Ellie, your wife and even Amaris."

"The Muggles have attacked our kind since you entered the town," Tiberius pointed out. "I'm dying _right now_ for this. Circumstances have changed."

I thought about Theodore Nott, sitting in his jail cell and patiently waiting to do what he was there to do. I thought about Aaron Fortess, the man everyone knew for having great integrity, corrupted and twisted by the pureblood agenda. And then my mind went to a place I didn't ever want it to, and the dark, cloaked, monsters known as the Dementors swept into view, trailing cold and throats screamed raw in their wake.

Ellie flashed into my mind next, funny, gorgeous, genuinely nice and lonely Ellie. I'd made a friend in her, and her in me, and there was no way I'd let harm come to her now. For her sake, for Ogden's sake, for my sake.

"I can't do anything right now but promise, Tiberius," I said quietly. "I'll let my actions speak for themselves, trust me. Did the letter specify they had to be moved to Granford alone?"

Ogden shook his head.

"Good. Then they won't be going in alone. I have some bodyguards in mind."

..::..-.-..::..

Stanthorpe was the first to meet us once we crossed the Tent Bridge into Granford. "Those the strays you picked up?" he asked, nodding his head to Ellie and her family, both the real members and the fake ones.

"Yeah," I said, grinning at the man. "I took a leaf out of your book and rounded them up. Next thing you know I'll be going into a mistfiend nest for kicks."

He grimaced, and I continued a bit more seriously with, "Are you doing okay, Stan? I heard about what was left of Liliford, and..."

"I'm back on my feet now, that's the important thing."

"If you're sure..."

"Honestly, I'd rather not think about it at all, Harry," said Stanthorpe. "If you'd ever been close to the mist, you'd know why."

Oh, I knew why. It was strange to think it, because it felt longer, but Stanthorpe had only discovered Liliford two days ago, after setting out a day before that. The memory of his encounter with the mist - even the proximity of it was enough - would still be as fresh and as horrifying as it was when it happened. Again, it had been two days. It would be _months_ before he'd fully recover, and even then... I looked him over with my best Healer one-over. Stanthorpe was strong, but still human, and able to be affected by the Dementors. He wore heavier clothing than usual, and his left hand occasionally shook and trembled at nothing every other moment.

Definitely months, not days. I'd keep an eye on him, but he was as fine as he could be right now, and it wasn't my place.

Leeson, his arm in a sling from the incident last week, met with us next, as we begun the trip towards the hospital. "After their checkups, we're going to have to put them with Abe's," he said.

"He always has room," I said agreeably. If I had it my way, Ellie and her family would be at Abe's as long as I would be. The closer they were, the better.

"So where did you and Strong find this lot, then?" Leeson asked.

Neville and Terry had begged off to head back to Abe's by this point, and Ellie split off from her group to walk up to and alongside me, smiling happily. She and her family knew vague specifics about the move, thanks to time constraints, but Ellie especially seemed happy to just be out and about. "We found them in a cottage," I told Leeson. "No idea exactly where, but Strong could tell you. Anyway, they'd been holed up there for the entire year, and did a damn good job at keeping low-key."

"And the supplies they brought with them will help a lot," Stanthorpe said, grinning to Ellie. "Thank you for that, by the way."

"Thanks for having us here," she replied, very much aware those supplies were the ones Hart's team recently picked up in Cardiff. "I know I'm happy to help where I can, and my family feels the same."

Leeson and Stanthorpe both nodded and smiled at her for that, no doubt instantly charmed.

We entered the hospital soon after, leaving the Ogdens to get their check-ups. I took the opportunity given to take Leeson and Stanthorpe aside and ask, "What's been going on lately?"

The two shared a look. "What do you mean?" Leeson asked, leaning back on the corridor's wall. We all looked around briefly to see if anyone was around, but the sterile hospital hallway was empty of just us, and our voices were kept low to avoid echoes.

I shrugged and tried to put on an air of acting inquisitive without being suspicious. "Things felt weird when we got in. I don't know, I mean, just... the _air_ of the town feels off."

"It's been a strange few days," said Stanthorpe glumly. "The news of Liliford has disheartened more than a few spirits, not to mention the loss of Maple's group before that... Weather's picking up, winter's coming, and, well..."

"Nobody's mentioning that Warren's gone missing," Leeson said lowly. "I mean, completely _vanished_. No funeral, no memorial, no confirmation about what happened. A whole bunch of people aren't saying anything."

Stanthorpe leaned in, his face grave. "I wasn't here when he apparently went missing, but when I asked Jules, she was very defensive about the whole thing."

"More defensive than usual, when _I_ asked her," added Leeson.

"And Aaron..." Stanthorpe shook his head. "Forgive me, it's not our place to worry you -"

I held up a hand to stop him. "No, say it. I know I've only been here nearly two weeks, but I'm here now, and I should probably know these things. That family, Ellie and the others, I brought them here... And I'm very responsible for them."

"Okay, Harry." He took a deep breath. "The thing is, Fortess is becoming more reclusive. I don't know why, but I hear most of the work's being done through Juliet. The town still runs like a well-oiled machine, but Fortess rarely leaves his office during the day to do what he usually does - walk around, talk to who needs talking to... He's delegating, and he's never done that."

"It's like he's under pressure of some kind," Leeson commented.

"He went to talk with the man who wandered into town last week. I believe you met him? Calls himself Theodore?"

I snorted. "Bit wonky in the head?"

"Yeah, that's him," Leeson said with a chuckle. "Fortess had a chat with him, and it got violent. Theodore's face now resembles a plum, and Fortess broke one of his knuckles in the process."

That made me raise my eyebrow. "What the hell would've caused _that_ reaction?" I asked, though I had a very good idea.

Leeson shrugged. "Don't know, but it's not like him at all. He wasn't even this angry when Tess died."

"I'm going to approach him soon," Stanthorpe declared. "Get Juliet away from him for a few hours, and have a sit down. Ask about Warren. Ask about everything. Because these changes... They worry me. The town can feel it too, and that worries me even more."

"Me too," said Leeson. "It's a good idea, Stan."

"Yes it would. There would be nothing worse right now, this close to winter and right after the loss of Liliford, than division. Seeds of distrust and uncertainty can turn a sanctuary like Granford into a battlefield." Stanthorpe shook his head and focused on me. "We might all seem friendly now Harry, but that's because we're at peace. We're still human, and under pressure, we'll... I wouldn't be proud of anything that happens under pressure."

Stanthorpe was a perfect example of someone who was a small cog in the greater machine. His views on things didn't go beyond Granford, about survival; he didn't know about magic, about Wizengamot politics, or the things that were either going to save or destroy his town, but his concerns were what he could understand, and control. At the end of the day, after the bigger people have played their Wizengamot game and Granford's fate has been decided, Stanthorpe's own livelihood in protecting and preserving Granford would still mean _something_, even if it's only to him. And that right there made him important to this, to me.

"I'm a little worried now guys," I told them, tittering nervously. "Fortess is going to be responsible for placing the Ogdens somewhere, and, well, if what you're saying is true, can I be sure that Ellie and the others will be _safe_?"

Stanthorpe reached out and placed a strong hand on my shoulder. "Fortess won't see them as anything less than just a family of survivors, Harry, because that's what they are. His behaviour is worrying, but not _that_ worrying. They'll be safe, and if you can't trust Aaron Fortess's promise on that, then trust mine, at least." He smiled ruefully. "I shouldn't have even said these things... It's not quite your concern."

_It is, _I thought, _more than you know._

Because if I were a betting man, I'd bet that Fortess already knew who Ellie, Amaris and Gladys were. Malfoy and his friends had gotten their way by pressuring Tiberius Ogden, with a bit of deadly persuasion to help things along, and while the Ogdens would be in danger from the grand scheme in destroying Granford, they'd too want the much more immediate threat in the form of Fortess working under their orders all ready to be used without them playing their final card: Nott. Fortess no doubt would know that the three ladies were high-valued targets, practically hostages now, but if he'd act on it directly or just let me keep them nearby was another thing entirely.

Stanthorpe begged off to get back to midday work, but I stopped Leeson from doing the same. "Hey, I've got some time to kill before the Ogdens are done, so can I go check up on our prisoner? Just make sure he's not _too_ injured."

He nodded, and off we went. We walked north from the hospital and to the police station, and every step towards my destination felt like stepping into dread and the unknown; Nott's presence had nearly caused me to snap, days earlier, and while I was relatively sure it wouldn't happen again... Fortess had apparently almost killed him. Nott knew which buttons to push, no doubt.

I soon found myself in front of Nott's cell, and Leeson left me to it. After putting up the usual charms - keeping out eavesdroppers and Muggles entirely - I rattled the cell's bars with a hand, carefully staying put outside the door. No way was I going to let myself be stuck in there with him. Not after last time.

He wasn't quite sleeping when I arrived. No, the best way I could describe it was that he was curled into a ball, shaking and shivering at nothing. I'd seen Sirius do the same once - though he was passed out after a Christmas drinking session rather than kind-of asleep - and chalked it up to Azkaban's influence. While Sirius had been there a lot longer than Nott, he hadn't cracked as badly, and it wasn't until interacting with Nott that I fully realised how lucky my godfather had been.

"Nott," I barked, slapping the bars again. The _clang _sound echoed through the cold, still, room, and it properly got Nott sitting upright on that concrete slab he called a bed.

When he sat up, I saw that, yes, his face did resemble a plum, bruised and bloody in places, swollen in more, but yeah, definitely plum-like. I didn't quite feel like Healing it, and he didn't even appear to be in that much pain in the first place. When he spotted me, he smirked with both split and swollen lips. "Harrr-reee," he sang in that insane way of his. The silver amulet on a chain dangled in front of his skeletal neck.

"Theeee-oh-doooore," I shot back.

"You remembered."

"Not likely to forget."

"Not yet."

"You don't look so good, Theodore. Been busy while I've been away?"

He spat out a globule of blood into the corner of the cell. "Did you come to check up on me, Healer Potter? Heal, save, sure, sure, but you can't heal this, you can't save _this_." The 's' sound elongated, serpentine and cold, and didn't stop until I spoke up.

"You talk too much," I said. "I'd imagine that Fortess thought the same, and rearranged your face for it."

"Truth, lies, truth, lies. He heard what he didn't want to hear, lies and truth and truth and lies. And even if you do think I talk too much, Har-ree, that is why you are here. To talk. Talk. Talk. "

So I did. "It never ceases to amaze me the lengths your friends will go to," I started, "Malfoy, Selwyn and all of them. I know I should just roll with these sort of things, but sometimes I like to think I've got a handle on who I'm dealing with."

Nott eyed me darkly. "You're talking to me."

"They're _your_ friends."

"They are not," he insisted, shaking his head back and forth.

I snorted. "Right, sorry, forgot. Don't like them because they wouldn't go to Azkaban for your idiotic Dark Lord? Your friends -"

"They are not _my_ friends!" he snapped. "They use me and push me, always and always, but we're not friends. They threaten me, with the cold, and tell, tell, tell, order every time, and never ask. Never ask!"

"And no part of you never wanted to do these things?" I snapped back, feeling frustration seep into my body. Dammit, a minute into it and I'm close to breaking his bones. I sighed, releasing that tension, that anger. Nott watched me, a triumphant gleam in his eyes, smirking at me through bruised and swollen eyelids. "You look tired, Nott. You should get some more sleep, do some thinking. This has to be a short visit, fortunately for us both. But... I'll be back, and _soon_, with some questions."

Nott scoffed, wet and bubbly through bloody nostrils and lips. "Never ask," he murmured. "Never ask."

His babbling followed me out of the jail cells and out into the station, and I made an internal promise to myself to come back a bit more level-headed, ready to hear everything that I needed to. I'd give myself the afternoon to think, to try and figure ahead of time what he had to say. I very much got the feeling I shouldn't come back, but I knew I would.

On my own head be it, but I would.

..::..-.-..::..

It was an hour later when the Ogdens, and the two fake Ogdens, cleared their medical examinations with flying colours, zombie bite-free as could be. I led them back to Abe's, keeping an eye on the two I'd picked to pose as Ellie's father and grandfather.

The former found himself with more free time after Ellie's real grandfather signed off to get him reassigned from his usual duty in the DMLE. Artemis Hart, Wizengamot member and one of my allies, soon found himself assigned to this undercover bodyguard work. It hadn't taken much to convince him of the seriousness of the situation, and if in the process I kept another vote towards the bill nearby and safe, then so be it.

The other ally I'd convinced to pose as Gladys's husband was Hit-Wizard Leon Strauss, one of the senior members formerly of the scavenging team I was apart of under Kingsley Shacklebolt. I knew the measure of the man from those trips, and he knew mine. He had no particular want to be involved in politics, but giving him a mission to protect somebody like this would come easily to him. The stress of the last scavenging trip we'd gone on, including the death of Strauss's apprentice, needed to be alleviated, and the work Granford would put him through would be good for that.

"Leon, dear, do stop acting like an old dog," Gladys said as we entered Aberforth's pub. "Flattery is all very nice, but I'm very devoted to my husband."

Strauss shot her a sly wink. "Yes ma'am. I shall endeavour to get his permission before I flatter you again."

Gladys got a bit of a chuckle out of that, and shooed him up the stairs, towards the rooms Abe had picked for them. I watched them go almost fondly; despite meeting only today, he and her were already chatting like old friends. And, well, to put it simply, they certainly sold the old married couple routine better than Amaris and Hart did.

See, Hart was pretending to be Ellie's father, and while he had his interaction with Ellie down pat, as fake-doting as a long-suffering father of a teenage daughter in the zombie apocalypse could be, the tension between him and Amaris was, to put lightly, very fucking noticeable.

The two were halfway up the stairs when their arms brushed, and they flinched away from each other violently as if they had been struck by lightning.

"Just like she was with dad," Ellie quipped, smiling as I laughed.

"I'm sure most of the blame can go to your mother being your mother," I commented. "Disgruntled as she can be at being whisked away from her safe cottage and all."

Ellie led me up the stairs, nodding her head in agreement. "She gets like that."

"Really? Hardly noticed."

After they'd all gotten settled in and introduced to my friends, I showed them all to the roof of Abe's pub, just above the forth floor. Abe's wasn't the highest building in Granford, but was situated in a neighbourhood with no buildings as tall as it, and from here there was a good view of the circle-shaped main square and the bigger landmarks: the two bridges, the Trickler's filtering station, the hospital, and in its unassuming corner, the police station, which Ernie was currently watching. The roof was, well, roof-like, flat and slightly angular, old brick in places and flat concrete against a red chimney in the middle.

"The wards around the town prevent a quick exit," I explained to them all: Ellie, Amaris, Gladys, Hart, Strauss, as well as Ron and Abe, who already knew but were there anyway. "No portkeys and no apparating until you cross out of the ward boundary I showed you on the way in. We can't set up a Floo connection, either, so if things go to hell and you need to get out, you come up here." I paused. "Though, if it's a simple zombie attack, just following the Muggles out through the filtering station tunnel. Now, if there's anything worse -"

"Worse?" Ellie asked.

"He means Dementors, dear," said Gladys, and Strauss and Hart nodded beside her, both wearing grim faces.

Ellie paled, but I rushed to assuage her. Or warn her. One of the two. "Granford's sister town Liliford was destroyed by Dementors from the inside out. We put the wards up to prevent it from being that simple here, but there's still a good chance that if the bad guys want to destroy Granford, they'll use the Dementors. Now, I'll teach you the Patronus Charm if you'd don't know it, just in case, but in the event of that kind of attack, I'd rather you - all of you - come up to the roof and grab these." I kicked my foot against the invisible trunk sitting in front the chimney. "Broomsticks. Fast and reliable. They'll get you out of the town's limits and the ward boundary within minutes, and I charmed them to make the rider invisible when they sit on it. However, the Dementors can and will knock you off your broom with proximity alone."

Ron's smile was faint, but there. "He's speaking from experience, too."

"It's more than just that," Strauss warned. "Their presence, the cold and the emotions they bring forth, will prevent you from successfully disapparating away. When you see the Dementors, you have to avoid them. Nothing more, nothing less."

"Right." I nodded my head. "Up here you have a good vantage of where they'd be coming from in case of attack. If you see them coming from the west, fly to the east."

"A telltale sign will be their mist," said Hart. "Their numbers have increased since the outbreak, and they've achieved that by breeding right after feeding, on the spot. Even if they're not in it, the mist will remain for a while after they're gone."

Ellie looked sick at the thought, and she asked, "Why are you telling us this?" She looked at me specifically. "Why did you move us here if it's _less_ safe than back home?"

"It wasn't my choice, Ellie," I said gently. "We had to take you away from under the Fidellius both because the charm could be compromised, as I'd feared, and because your grandfather... He's being threatened. And not like before. He had to agree to put the three of you here, with me, or we'd lose him entirely. There was no other way. We wouldn't have had long to think of one. I took the option presented, and with Hart and Strauss here, I'm taking advantage despite it all."

Gladys and Amaris both realised why I had a time limit at the same time. The former said, "Oh" and turned a mournful gaze off into the distance, and the latter glared at me. "You just can't leave us alone," she said in angry disbelief. "You stand here even though my father could've been killed for _you_, and again, you're using us as bait."

"This is different," I snapped. "The threats you were getting last time have been intercepted." With deadly results. "This situation is far more dangerous, and I don't want you all in it. There is no way I could use you all as bait now; you're already _their_ bait. For _me_. If there's an attack, I'll be so focused on getting you out that they'll destroy Granford."

"But you're still showing them the escape plan," Strauss said. "You brought myself and Auror Hart into this. So you can still get them out and focus on saving Granford."

"I won't deny that." I gave Amaris a serious look. "But, I promise that I won't be assured in saving Granford from attack, of whatever kind, until you are all out safe. You'll be the first priority, but if I have these backup plans to get you out and keep you alive, I know I can go off and get myself killed happily then."

"He's right," Abe grunted, leaning against the roof access door. "He has enough brooms in there for all of us, if need be."

"Even though we'd be fighting here with him," Ron added quietly.

"But since I don't want to know if you three ladies can fight in the middle of a battle, the plan stays as is," I said fiercely. "Tiberius would kill me otherwise."

"And I'd help," Amaris murmured, but voiced no other of her acidic thoughts. Instead, she just pushed past her fake husband and her daughter to get to the roof access trapdoor, slamming it shut behind her as she left.

"I'm sorry," I said to Ellie and Gladys. "Tiberius is too."

Ellie nodded shakily, her smile just as nervous and jerky. "I know your intentions are good, Harry. I just kinda hoped that this place would be safer, better."

"I'll be right here if you need me, as much as I can be," I promised.

"Thanks." She brushed up to me and her eyes met mine, and her hand patted against mine briefly, hesitantly. "I'm going to go get something to eat now, all right?"

"I'll get us all something," murmured Abe, and the rest of us followed him down the ladder soon after, Strauss making sure to be overly gentlemanly to Gladys, who looked about twenty seconds away from swatting him.

Despite everything, dinner that night was a rambunctious affair, filled with laughter and smiles as we shared various stories. We were holed up in Abe's back room, sitting around his dingy little table and sharing a somewhat bland meal of canned meat with canned vegetables, but it was warm, the company was good - Amaris opting to skip it - and it was just plain nice to have something like this, bright and hopeful, in the middle of everything dark and gloomy. Outside this room, the town of Granford balanced on the precipice of darkness, just waiting to fall off that edge and into oblivion. But tonight, it didn't matter.

"... then when he told me I'd arrested the wrong man," Hart said, pausing to take a sip of his drink, but soon spilling some on the table to his chortling, which set the rest of us off; Ellie, beside me, giggled in anticipation. "All I had to do was point out that, hey, he was stupid enough to try and steal the stuff, without ever checking to see if the glamour charm was in place!"

We all got a good laugh out of that one, but Ellie's tapered off into a tired yawn, and Terry and Neville soon matched it. The only two of us not present were Ernie, sleeping off the day's work with the Muggle paperpushers and the ensuing shift watching Nott, and Su, who had relieved him in watching the police station.

"I have to get up early tomorrow for the harvest," said Neville, stretching in his chair. "Best call it a night now, while I'm ahead."

A series of goodnights followed him out the door, and Terry got the same treatment soon after, saying before he left, "Got a thing tonight." He grinned at me. "Don't wait up."

"He either has a date with Juliet or someone's letting him fire a gun," I told the rest of the table after he left.

Abe snorted. "Knowing her? The date involves firearms, and lots of them."

Ellie yawned again, and shot me a lingering look before she stood from her chair. "Long day," she said, smiling and nodding to everyone around the table. She reached over and patted her grandmother on the shoulder.

"Do tell your mother goodnight," the older woman said. "Try and get her to come down for some late food, as well."

"I'll try," Ellie replied with a grimace. "Might have better luck with taming a dragon in that time -"

"Dragon, Amaris," said Hart. "Same thing."

Despite herself, Gladys wheezed a little laugh, and after Ellie left, she said, "You all already know that I'm worried, correct?"

Strauss nodded seriously. "For your husband."

"Indeed. You should also probably understand where Amaris is coming from right now." Gladys turned to me. "She distrusts you not just because of Tiberius, but how enamoured Ellie is with you."

Ron tittered to himself, while I played it off with a laugh. Ellie was enamoured? As in, _enamoured_? I didn't feel like asking Gladys to clarify, mostly because the picture was clear enough as it was.

"I remember when I was Amaris's age," said Gladys, "and I was very suspicious of a man my husband had allied himself with. All the rumours about him... Amaris got her fire from me, and I was just as worried as she is now when Tiberius started campaigning with this man, a young rebel by the name of Albus Dumbledore." The ensuing smile showed her teeth, and she looked to Abe. "Give her time, and maybe she'll see."

I laughed. "Did you ever admit your mistake in distrusting Dumbledore?"

She looked rather affronted at that. "Heaven's no, child. I'd never admit to making that mistake. I just kept up the show for another quarter-century."

At that, Abe let out a genuine laugh. "Me too," he muttered.

Gladys smiled warmly at him, and turned it on me. "If you're vindicated to Amaris but stay friendly with Ellie, you should know my daughter will never say sorry. She's got too much of me in her."

Strauss leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms out. "And Ellie?"

"Different circumstances," said Gladys, her voice tinged with sadness. "All the children who were forced into that Voldemort's war were changed by it." She tipped her head to me and Ron. "Ellie may not have been as affected or bloodied as the two of you, but she gained a lot of heart from the adversity. She gets that from Tiberius."

"Your husband's a great man," said Hart. "I wouldn't wish what he's going through on anyone."

Gladys nodded gratefully. "You're a good man yourself, Auror Hart. You venture into Dementors's nests to gather supplies, you play the Wizengamot game at risk to yourself, and you're voting for the right cause. I thank you for that."

I never thought I'd see the big Auror abashed, but he certainly seemed on the verge of it at the Gladys's comments.

"Ahh well, we're all just doing the right thing here," he said with a sheepish grin. "Now, you lot ever hear what happened on Dawlish's bachelor party night? It started with a bottle of Firewhiskey, two Hippogriffs and a copious amount of Shrinking Solution..."

We were laughing soon enough, and by the time the story was over, leaving graphic and disgustingly hilarious mental images in its wake, I shot Hart a grateful look for his part in lightening the mood. I'd like to think I could call him a friend now, just like I could the others. They were a mad lot, but overall, keeping them safe? Not going to be too difficult. I'd planned ahead, I'd turned a reaction into a forward action... the day had gone well.

Now, I could only hope that I wouldn't get bitten in the arse for it.

..::..-.-..::..

Sleep didn't come easily, despite the fullness of the day. I lied in my bed and let my mind wander to what helped me to sleep the night before: Astoria. I captured that precious time after our kiss yesterday, more passionate and heated than our first one, because by then we knew what we wanted. We were quick to run inside before the sun could set, and our instincts had led us to our spot in the library, where we'd had our first kiss the day before.

Hours later we were still there, relaxing on the makeshift bed, basically a mattress, a few pillows and a blanket, I conjured on our usual reading table.

"Something's lumpy under there," said Astoria, squirming her naked body against mine in trying to get more comfortable. I knew I was comfortable enough as is, at least.

I laughed. "Because you're sitting on my hand."

"Oh." She squirmed some more, and my hand was released from its very opportune spot. "No wait, still something there."

I reached around under the blanket, and Astoria shivered, in a visibly good way, as my hand brushed at the side of the bed and found the offending object squashed between the mattress and the table it was sitting on. "Nightingale's Potent Potions," I read aloud. "Read it already." I tossed it off onto the floor, not too hard but no less a throw.

"That was a second edition, you know."

"Plenty more where that came from. You more comfortable now?"

"_Much_ better." She sighed contently. "You know, I was wrong about you."

Astoria had said something similar back when we first became friends, after the initial uneasy period of getting to know each other back in the Hogwarts Hospital Wing. She said she was wrong back then about me in that usual way Slytherins thought of me, especially after the war. This time, I got the feeling it was something different, and I asked, "Yeah? When?"

"When you first visited about... Merlin, only a fortnight ago." She closed her eyes and smiled at nothing. "I compared you to Draco, but really, I shouldn't have."

Mentioning the "D" word wasn't really something that would improve the mood, but I gestured for her to go on by tapping my fingers against her arm.

"You're both flawed men, but you, you are much more... _more_ than he is," she said. "You've got confidence, like a larger than life figure who can go out and save the day but still have enough time to help people in the smallest of ways, like Healing. And you take both things just as seriously, and that makes you... _right_. Just right, and good, and, well, you make me laugh more. I haven't laughed this year as much as I have in these past two weeks. It's just good, you know?"

I did know. It'd been a lonely year, and although when I was younger the idea of being with somebody like I was with Sarah seemed a fantastical impossibility - especially to the overly emotional teenage me - but when it happened, and when I lost it, _her_, that yearning to connect with someone again never wavered... The situation wasn't quite the same from Astoria's side of thinking - bastard that he was, Draco was still _there_ for her over the past year - but she too was yearning for a connection, and that's why we became friends again in the first place. That things had taken a step forward in an intimate direction was neither of our intentions, but still, as she said, it was just _good_.

"I had such a thing for you back in Hogwarts," Astoria revealed, talking happily for the sake of it, and she laughed at the look on my face. "You didn't know? I thought you were just being, you know, kind about it."

"Nah, just clueless." And I've only gotten worse.

"Lately I can't help but think about what would've happened if we'd done something back at Hogwarts. Done all of this a lot earlier..."

I thought about it. I vocalised the first thought that came to mind, saying, "I wouldn't have been with Sarah."

"You _did_ end up losing her, Harry," Astoria said gently.

Somehow I got the feeling I would've lost Astoria too if her and Sarah's roles had been switched. But that's just me being negative. "I, uh, can't believe it's been a year. Sometimes that feels like forever, given how much is going on, but at the same time..." And there I went again with the negativity, but I had to finish that sentence, "I feel... guilty, almost."

Astoria went stiff in my arms, quiet. I got the feeling that if I looked down at her, she wouldn't be smiling anymore.

"I'm no stranger to guilt either," she murmured. "I'm betraying my husband in more ways than one with his archenemy, in his own house... It's possible that I might know what you're feeling."

I winced. "Sorry."

"S'okay."

The air shifted then, from the afterglow of earlier to the hanging awkwardness that I was afraid of feeling when I first visited, but the two of us both fought it off by just staying still, getting comfortable with little touches, skin against skin, underneath the blanket. Things felt warmer after a while, and warm became outright hot soon after. Before things could get too heated, however, Astoria stopped me with a soft hand against my chest.

"My husband will be out to dinner at Parkinson's," she said, smiling coyly. "He usually stays for drinks and scheming, and since we have the time... Our bed is much more comfortable than this one."

I couldn't possibly say no to that. Air struck me as I pulled back the covers, and while it wasn't that cold, it was still cold enough on bare skin to make goosebumps spring up.

Astoria jumped out with the blanket wrapped around to collect her clothes then, picking them up from the floor around the table. Her dress was sprawled out at the far corner where I'd thrown it, and she went for that directly instead of going after her underwear, lying next to a few books that were moved in the fray.

"You know," I said, watching her shuck into the dress. "We don't have to technically wear clothes on our trip up the stairs."

"And give the portraits a free show?" she said with a little giggle, tying the dress around at the waist loosely, not bothering with a few of the other buttons for easy access. I fucking approved. "Not likely."

Somewhere in between remembering leaving the library, climbing the stairs and entering the bedroom, I fell asleep, content as I could be.

Only, I was woken up what felt like a short time later, and when I opened my eyes, I was in my bed at Abe's, in Granford. Things were fuzzy at first, but when I came to, I saw something new, something different. Moonlight was illuminating the naked woman straddling me over the blanket.

There was enough light in the room that I could make out the woman's face, and two thoughts suddenly hit me.

One, that this wasn't the first time I'd woken up with an Ogden in my bedroom.

Two, that Gladys's comment about Ellie being enamoured with me pretty much meant what I thought it did.

Both thoughts combined led to the thought that, as far as ways to wake up went, this was a pleasant one. However...

"Oh this is going to get awkward, real fast," I murmured into the darkness. "Ellie?"

Her hand slid up the side of the blanket, where my arm was bundled under. "Yes, Harry?"

"You're naked."

She hummed.

"And cold. Visibly so."

"Not really," she whispered, leaning in and showing off the charm bracelet around her wrist, dangling it in front of my face.

Oh, glorious. "I'm not saying I'm not flattered. Nor am I going to even ask why, exactly. I think I know the answer to that one."

"You do so much good," said Ellie, drawing back and letting the moonlight highlight her hair, hanging down just above her breasts. "I thought I'd show my appreciation..."

"Ellie..." I said softly. "If you'd maybe hold on a second, and, um, think. Just for a second. I know you haven't had much contact with people in the past year, and I remember Hermione telling me once that girls love a good hero... or somebody their mother disproves of."

"Are you seriously thinking about my mother right now?"

"I'm thinking about the size of my headstone for my grave, you know, after she kills me."

"You know I like you Harry."

"I like you too, maybe not the way you -"

"The world nearly ended," she said. "There was the war, and then The Stigma, and... my grandfather nearly died just so we could be placed in danger here."

"Are you seriously thinking about your grandfather right now?"

"The Dementors -"

"Don't think about them either."

"I haven't been with anybody, you know, at all, and -"

Okay, time to put a stop to this. And not just because her hips started rocking, and a certain part of me became aware of such. No, it was about doing what was right, all the while trying to write this off as a humorous incident in my head instead of a younger, less mature, woman, scared and alone, doing what she might think was a good idea at the time.

"Ellie, _stop_," I snapped. "There are many ways to get my attention in the way you want. We can be friends for a while and you can subtly hint until I get a clue. We can just fall into naturally, or be pushed into it by well-meaning friends. But showing up naked in my bed is a good way to get you cursed. I get twitchy sometimes." And really, only the circumstances behind how I fell asleep and the surprise of how I woke up kept me from reacting violently. "I can't, Ellie, not with you, not now."

She froze, and whatever look of seduction she was wearing on her face melted into dawning horror. "Oh Merlin."

Okay, how to put this? Sorry, but circumstances are stressful enough and by the way there's another woman, so... Sorry? Better luck next time?

"I can't believe I forgot about her," said Ellie, looking absolutely mortified. She looked down at herself, as if realising that yes, she'd chosen to wear only my charm bracelet to my bed. "Sarah, your girlfriend. I... Didn't even think that you'd still be - I _completely_ forgot. Fuck, I've just made a mess, haven't I?"

Oddly enough, it wasn't Sarah that I was concerned about; Astoria was filling my thoughts more and more. "There's that factor, yes," I said to Ellie, however. "I'd rather you not do anything for the wrong reasons."

"You got me out of that cottage -"

"Not by choice, and not because I wanted you away from your family for a night. Err... Not that I mean it harshly, but -"

"You were nice and I just thought you'd want -"

"Again, any other day I would wake up wands-a-blazing. Any other day that wasn't today and I'd might appreciate something like this, especially after being so stressed out -"

"But the other factor."

"There's that."

"Err... Let's forget this happened?"

Cross your fingers and hope that the other factor won't even be one some time down the track, eh Ellie? Either way, I couldn't let her off the hook so easily. "Your grandfather is a friend and ally. I'm tasked with protecting you, and your family, and we're in a dangerous spot. Life and death stuff. Even if there wasn't... Sarah." _Astoria, _I almost said. "I wouldn't go for it, not now. Things have to stay simple, and this is far from it."

"I'm so... yeah, embarrassed." Ellie crossed her arms over her chest, suddenly modest. The action only served to push her breasts up, which, again, a part of me noticed. "No, I get it. Just, forgetting about this sounds good right now."

"Agreed," I said, but I couldn't help but want to throw her a bone. "Though, it might be hard to look you in the eye for a while, just so you know. Might bring other images to mind." I made a show of eyeing her appreciatively, maybe to add to the wheedling of the situation, maybe not. I felt a rush of understanding to where she was coming from; if I were younger and things had been different, I probably would've labelled her as slightly crazy, though. But in reality, she was just... young. Even if she was only a few years younger than me, she was still scared, and searching for a natural outlet for that fear.

And wasn't I just doing the same thing with Astoria? I'd been so pro-action over the past two days because she became my outlet, that connection I'd been missing, and fulfilling that had galvanised me.

"You should probably get off now," I told Ellie, and she complied instantly, nearly falling off the bed in the process. "Come on, I'll take you back to your room... You did have some clothes on you in the walk from there to here, right?"

She nodded, picking up the robe from the floor at the base of my bed.

We soon found ourselves walking the halls of Abe's highest level, where she was roomed right next to the roof access trapdoor. The hallway was lit by oil lamps in brackets mounted to the walls, and it was aided by the moonlight shining through the circular window at the end of the hall. Ellie looked properly chastised in the pink robe she was clad in, though a tiny little smile played upon her face when she looked at me and thought I wasn't noticing.

"Goodnight Ellie," I told her when I got to her room. "No more bedroom visits."

She leaned up on her toes and kissed me on the cheek. "No promises."

"No no promises," I said indignantly, making a mental note to ward my room if need be. Hopefully, she was just being funny. Hopefully.

I took the stairs down to the floor below, where mine and the others' rooms were, but the hall was occupied by Ron, leaning against the door to his room across from mine.

"Ron," I greeted, smiling tiredly. "Heard the commotion? Sorry I woke..." I trailed off.

I had been about to say that I was sorry I woke him, but he didn't look like he'd been sleeping in the first place. His eyes were dull, his irises were more red than white, and he was rubbing his arm idly when I came up to him, in such a way like he didn't even know he was doing it. It made him look like he was in that strange state of awake yet asleep, certain parts of his body doing certain things without him being truly, consciously, aware. When he did realise, he stopped rubbing his arm, and at the same time he seemed to realise I was there too, because he nodded to me in greeting. "Harry. Everything all right?"

"Long story, but a memorable one. What are you up to, mate? Couldn't sleep?"

"Haven't been doing much," he confirmed, resignation in his tone. "I was going to go relieve Su from Nott-watching 'cause I can't... It's been... hard."

This was not a new revelation, but nightmares made sleep difficult, and nothing brought forth more nightmares than losing somebody in a way you didn't expect or couldn't control, especially after losing people before that, a long chain that goes back and back and... After a while, sleep becomes a challenge to overcome, and I knew from personal experience it was a long hurdle to jump. Ron had been the same since Megan and since we'd entered Granford: sullen, grim, depressed, but occasionally letting his anger on zombies along the way.

"We haven't talked much since The Burrows," I said quietly. "Though I can figure why, there's no reason we can't at least pretend to talk."

Ron shrugged, not carelessly, but with weight. "Nah, I'd know what we'd both say, and I can already see the fifty arguments we could have about it, but I don't what that." He shook his head. "I actually came out to apologise to you while I had the chance."

I raised an eyebrow. "Really? What about?"

He took a deep swallow, _gulp_ sound and all, like he was holding something back - maybe even a joke. "I know I haven't been easy to deal with lately -"

"I was no happy-go-lucky Harry after Sarah either, mate, and I -"

"- and I just want to say that you can still use me. You wanted me there for Harper and I helped as much as I could, and that felt good, you know? Better than sitting around here waiting to go to the battle, like with The Burrows. I'm saying sorry because you've been patient and given me time, but I haven't really realised how much help you've been yet, or truly thanked you, or apologised, or both. I'm here for you Harry. Every step until the end, even if that's tomorrow or in the next hour... I've got your back."

I stepped forward and clasped my hand on his shoulder. "Nobody I'd rather for the job. And you've got no reason to act like a girl. No apologises needed."

Ron laughed hollowly. "You're right, I s'pose. Your constant worrying is rubbing off. Next thing you know I'll be trying to save every passing ant from the bottom of people's shoes."

"You go out of your way to save the spiders and I'll be truly impressed, Ron."

His laugh was more genuine that time, and we parted back to our rooms soon after. A part of me hoped he would take that laughter, that one fleeting moment of happiness in the recent mist of despair, and go to sleep with a smile on his face for the first time in a while.

I hoped he'd just sleep; because now that I was awake, I bloody couldn't. It took me half an hour of lying in bed to realise that, and before my mind could protest, I was up and already had a destination in mind.

..::..-.-..::..

The police station was mostly abandoned when I arrived, the front desk manned by the severe woman I'd seen there before. She told me Fortess and the others were sleeping by now, and let me into the cells after a little Confundus assistance.

Nott was waiting for me. He inhaled deeply through his nose. "You smell like woman. Tell me, was she sweet and innocent or a predator in disguise? Women, women, women, all of them, hiding."

I ignored that. "I had some questions, remember? Up to answering?"

Nott laughed, cold and high and very much like Voldemort's one moment and a mad, bubbly, giggle the next. "You won't like the answers," he said in a sing-song tone of voice. "Yes yes, no, yes. I'm hungry for something sweet."

"I'm still here, aren't I?" I said challengingly. "I'm here for those answers."

"You're the third. I've had three visitors in one day! The silly Muggle man who thinks he means anything to them. Or anyone. Fortess. For. Tess. I wonder if the woman in his life was hiding something of her own? For. Tess."

I crouched on my knees so I could look him in the eye through the bars; I didn't show any fear, just calmness. I wouldn't let him throw me off so easily, this time; it was my turn to play mind games. "My first question is just the warmup. So, how many people was it?" I asked. "How many people did you kill in the Dark Lord's service, again? Come on, Nott, you were in Azkaban for a good reason... How many did you kill?"

He hissed at me, and muttered something incomprehensible; moreso than usual.

"Come again?"

"Hundreds," he spat. "There were a few at first, but I don't even remember who was _first_. Maybe the Muggle girl with dark hair, or her squealing pig of a mother, or that twat who tried to run from the Dark Lord's best!"

"I imagine it only got better from there, didn't it?" I said coldly.

He spat out a spray of blood, the clanging sound making me think he just tried to spit a tooth at me. "More and more and more..." he hissed.

"And then you were feeding people to Dementors, yeah, I heard. Did you get the most out of Voldemort's service, Nott? Followed a mad man right into Azkaban, killed hundreds even before being responsible for Liliford, feeding Muggles to that _cold_."

He paled. "Cold. No. No." Then he began to shake his head again, his body overcome with spasms. He'd had this reaction before when I'd mentioned the Dementors's mist, and it drove him into saying some pretty insane things... A little part of me wanted to poke him again and see what I'd find, because the fact of it was that Nott's ramblings could yet prove instrumental, if not against Malfoy, but to help convince Fortess that Nott was there to kill them all, as part of the plot of the same people who were so generously helping out Granford. Making him react felt like my only option right now; no Veritaserum on hand, wouldn't want to risk using Legilimency, and the Imperius Curse wasn't my preferred method, if it even worked on him in the first place.

"I still remember the days of The Dementor's Stigma," I said after a moment, putting a pause in Nott's little episode. "I know it's not relevant now, because the disease died off, and the Dementors got their way... Anyway, our first case was maybe a month before the lockdown, nearly two months, now that I think about it. August, last year. The second, and the third, and the next twelve cases went on from there, I remember, but you know the strangest thing? Not once did I ever think that The Stigma would be what destroyed the world. It was just a series of cases, a cursed disease with no common link between the patients. Not infectious, just random. Black lesions first, anywhere on the body, and then the fever. Couple of weeks into having that unstoppable fever, the kind of fever that would kill anybody else but, well, curse magic kept it going. Anyway, a couple of weeks in, and our first patient starts to have hallucinations. _Severe_ hallucinations. The fever would go up and down, the lesions would pulsate under her skin, and all the while it was if a Dementor was in the room with her, sucking all the happiness away and replaying all of her worst memories in front of her. For _weeks, _she had those hallucinations..." I stopped for a moment, lost in that time back at St Mungo's before the fire claimed it. "I remember when it even got dubbed The Dementor's Stigma. The hallucinations should've tipped us off, but when we realised it was the Dementor breeding season, and that they spread their disease through the mist... Well, we never sat down to think about it too hard, but the name stuck."

Nott laughed again. "Oh, you know so little. _Nothing_. You know nothing."

"You were there, in Azkaban, and I always wondered... The Dementors were locked in the basement, and their mist got out. Did you feel it, or see it? Were there a whole bunch of other prisoners with The Stigma because of their proximity? I wouldn't think so, but there's always the chance that the Dementors would... experiment, on all of you. You were once theirs to guard, and when their revenge on the rest of humanity came, you'd be first." I snorted softly. "Merlin only knows how you got out of that mess alive."

"You and me both," he murmured, suddenly lucid. But it was gone again immediately, and his eyes flickered to the roof to the bars to my forehead, darting back and forth.

I sighed, tiredness creeping back on me. I don't know what I expected coming here, but it wasn't the promise of a good sleep when I got back to bed, that's for sure.

"You're so wrong," said Nott. "It almost makes me laugh." And he did, giggling wheezily. "You've said so much and _so much_, but I've said the most important thing of all: you know nothing."

"Then enlighten me," I said, though a part of my brain screamed at me to not be provoked, to walk away now and think of Astoria until I got to sleep again... "What am I wrong about, hmm? That you're not a psychopathic, insane, _pathetic_, monster?"

"The Dark Lord won, in the end, Har-ree Potter," he said gleefully. "The Muggles have been wiped out, all but these remnants crawling on the side of the great magical utopia to come."

Malfoy had said something similar when we last talked. "Just because his Muggle-killing job got done after I killed him doesn't mean he deserves credit, Nott. Your bullshit brainwashed words mean nothing. You and Draco are just deluded."

"No no," he protested, wagging a finger back and forth. "The Dark Lord won, you should know. Those dungeons full of Muggles and cold-bringers, the Dementors, were there for a reason. There he, oh, great and powerful he, worked to destroy the Muggles for a long time. Experimented on them, poked and prodded and poked again, until they cried and bled and died. The bodies, the carcasses, I fed to the Dementors. Parkinson and Bulstrode and all of those pathetic people did the same. The Dark Lord played with the Muggles, and we got rid of the remains to keep the cold in line." He closed his eyes and shivered. "You can't control the _cold_, but oh, it seemed like I could for a long time..."

I... had a sudden feeling I didn't want to have, an inkling and an instinct that pestered the edges of my mind, the dark recesses where these thoughts and more dwelt. "Voldemort experimented on Muggles in order to kill them better? Or all of them at once?" I asked.

Nott shrugged. "Or control, or whatever he would want. He could take it. The Dark Lord was a persuasive man, yes, yes. Magics beyond measure. Potions and enchantments and curses and soul magic, crafting the best and the worst and taking from life and death, and there were many, _many_, test subjects to choose from."

"But you fed the remains to the Dementors."

He hissed like an angry cat. "The _cold_."

Back then, the Dementors bred every three-to-five years, in a cycle. Rounded up in the basement levels of Azkaban after the war, including all the ones picked up from the dungeons of Death Eater homes like Nott Manor. Dementors that had been fed on the remains on experimented Muggles, those Voldemort was playing with to create a perfect way to exterminate them for good.

Dementors fed, and Dementors bred what they fed on. Souls. Voldemort tested and experimented... and the Dementors _fed_.

Oh God. The mist, the breeding season that started just before The Stigma. A mix-and-match of all the things Voldemort did to those Muggles, and all the Dementors would breed in that mist, because all of them would be _locked up in one place_. The mist spread from in there, and The Dementor's Stigma followed. Voldemort had started it all, and although even he wouldn't have seen this coming, he still succeeded in destroying the Muggles; that's why The Stigma affected them more than us, because Voldemort had experimented on non-magicals. The other cases, less than two dozen wizards and witches, would've been random, or some other factor that just didn't matter now. The most important thing was that I knew the cause of The Stigma, and while the answer was horrible for me, the fact was that the former Death Eaters would rally around their dead master's byproduct turned apocalypse.

But Nott wasn't done yet.

"You know the funniest thing you don't know?" he asked. "You said it yourself, see, in just one name. Draco. Malfoy. Oh, and you mentioned friends earlier? Draco was never my friend, never ever never, trust me on that. Like a big bird, strutting and strolling around the castle like he owned it, but he didn't own _anything_. When I was in the Dark Lord's favour, when the Notts were the best of the rest, I invited him over. It was just after Christmas, the day after maybe, and I showed off. I was the bigger man, and he knew it, and he followed me, _me_, like a loyal dog after his master... Then I showed him the cold, oh oh oh, the cold. Told him about the Dark Lord's experiments, about how he chose _me _to feed the cold with the remains..." He shook his head. "My Lord was out looking for a wand at the time. Can you imagine that? Why would he of people need a _wand_? He already had one..." He shook his head once more, side to side. "But where was I? Oh, I showed Draco the dungeons. And now... I know what I'm thinking now, and you should be thinking the same, yes."

I knew exactly what I was thinking. Draco had said as much, and he'd been saying it all along.

_"I turned from the Dark Lord's service because he was a mad man too obsessed with you to work on what he should've been: completely wiping out the Muggles for good, and bringing forth the magical utopia. Now his work has been mostly completed in a roundabout way, but..."_

_"You are under a mistaken impression that I wish to be a Muggle-loving saviour, but you are so wrong." _

_"People don't change so easily, Potter. It takes a big event like The Dementor's Stigma to make that apparent. Bigots will be bigots, bad people will be bad people."_

_"I know a great deal many things."_

_"Magic wills out. That's why The Stigma all but destroyed the Muggles, and that's why myself and my friends are working towards a better future."_

_"You don't seem to grasp just how easily I can destroy _you_."_

If Draco knew what Voldemort had gotten up to, and knew that his buddy Nott was feeding those experiments to the Dementors, how big of a leap of logic would it be, to him, to assume that, when the Dementor's Stigma hit, that things were going to get apocalyptic, and fast? There was a time of almost two months between the first case and the worldwide outbreak. In that time, Draco could've gathered gold, his father's people, and say he knew what was coming, and would present a plan for when the world would go to hell. Then when the Muggles started dying wholesale, he would suddenly look like somebody to listen to, and all those sceptical of his planning, those who remembered that he filched out of Voldemort's service in the end, would think better of him, even look to him as a leader.

Then, a year would follow, and while everybody else scrambled to not become extinct, he would already be planning ahead, working on the new world that would rise from the ashes. He would've thought out _every _possibility, because he would've had time. Everything would've been part of a plan, with the Wizengamot and even... Astoria. He marries her and gets her family's seat should he ever need to revive it. The expenses Greengrass put towards escaping Azkaban time would've put in the perfect position to owe Malfoy one, and to sell his daughter as capital when the outbreak hit... It was all terribly perfect.

I'd spent more than a day acting instead of reacting, going out of my way to top every move of the agenda's and come out better, but I was still on the bottom here. Draco fucking Malfoy was the ringleader, the one in charge, and he _knew_ me. How he reacted to me infiltrating Granford, how The Burrows were attacked, threatening Ogden only hours after Harper's death... All planned.

But, despite all of this, I had an advantage, one he had tried goading me into bartering away early on: the life debt his mother owed me, passed on to him by ancient laws and magic. If I used that right, I could destroy him. And he knew it.

Astoria came to mind then, however. She barely had any idea how involved her husband was before a few days ago, but the fact he might've just been _behind _it all meant that she was in a position of usefulness, of power to me. I could get her to spy for me, or work in conjunction with that life debt... I could do something, despite this revelation, despite the fact I had completely underestimated things.

Because I had to act, not react. _Act_.

But how to act, how to handle this perfectly without getting Astoria hurt or Granford destroyed... That was the question. How could I stop somebody with a year's planning under their belt, who no doubt has countermeasures for every other move of mine, and who's so damn close to his goal he could reach out and _touch it_. And there's me, still behind the curve and learning as fast as I can, but it's still not fast enough.

Theodore Nott leaned forward and grinned madly through the bars of his cell. One of his front teeth were missing, and it was a recent loss, for only a bloody hole was left. "You should visit more often." he said with mad cheer. "I will always cherish that look on your face when you realise how entirely fucked you are."

..::..-.-..::..

_To Be Continued in Chapter Ten: Inception..._

..::..-.-..::..

Post-Chapter Notes:

_- Next Chapter Tease ::_ Harry reflects on how it all began for him on the fateful day that claimed St Mungo's. Zombies? Sure, why not some of the _first_ zombies.

_- Wizengamot Scorecard ::_

- _Pro-Disclosure_ :: Harry, Neville, Susan, Antioch Boot, Brown, Patil, Hart, Diggory.

- _Anti-Disclosure_ :: Malfoy, Parkinson, Bulstrode, Selwyn, Gale, Burke.

- _Swing Votes_ :: MacMillan, Smith, Zabini, Cuffe.

- _Former Members ::_ Bill Weasley (Resigned), Isaac Aquilla (Dead), Hoster Harper (Dead).

- _Member Count ::_ Eighteen.

- _Status ::_ Evenstalled.

- _Pending Members :: _Astoria Malfoy (Greengrass seat).

Thanks for reading!

..::..-.-..::..


	10. Chapter Ten: Inception

_Standard Disclaimer_ :: All things Harry Potter belong to JK Rowling and affiliates. This fanfiction is a non-profit venture written for the enjoyment of myself and my readers.

_Dedication :: _To Seratin, Lutris, Zeitgeist, Vira and my friends from DLP, for putting up with my insanity, for reading early drafts, and just being there. Also, to all those who reviewed/favourited/alerted me or my story here on FFnet, cheers. Props to DLP for the feedback, too - anyone reading this who hasn't devoured their C2 on this very site must do so now. It's the first community on the list, for a damn good reason, and I'm more than happy to have this story on it too.

_Preface :: _I post this as it is with a bit of trepidation, given that I'm essentially spending the next two chapters detailing events that happened prior to the rest of the story, and while they are important for rounding out more than a few character arcs, as well as detailing a very important event at a critical introspective moment, the thing is that the original chapter turned out too long for easy digestion: over 30000 words. So I split it, and what makes me a little iffy is where the split occurs, and yeah, it's not as seamless as some of the other chapter splits I made (Chapter four and five, and eight and nine once being their own chapters). Anyways, I hope you all enjoy, as per usual.

_Previously ::_ Harry awoke the day after sleeping with Astoria to some bad news from Tiberius Ogden. Ogden had been poisoned by the pureblood agenda, and in exchange for a cure before he'd die before the next meeting, Harry was forced to move Gladys, Amaris and Ellie Ogden into Granford as pseudo-hostages at best, unneeded distractions in case of attack at worst. Harry countered with bringing in two allies to pose as male Ogdens: Auror Hart, Wizengamot member, to play Ellie's father, and Hit-Wizard Strauss, of Harry's former scavenging team, to be Ellie's grandfather. The transition went by smoothly enough, though Harry was soon disturbed by the news that Aaron Fortess, Granford's leader, is becoming increasingly unstable. The night the Ogdens were brought into town, Ellie tried to seduce Harry, but circumstances with Astoria being what they are, Harry quickly shot that down. Afterwards, a conversation with Ron prompted Harry to go visit Theodore Nott, who had yet another bombshell to drop: The Dementor's Stigma was inadvertently created by Voldemort, and Draco Malfoy knew from the start that the apocalypse was coming. He could yet be behind all the actions of the pureblood agenda; Harry's next move is critical...

..::..-.-..::..

_Chapter Ten of Sixteen: Inception_

..::..-.-..::..

With my thoughts as troubled as they were, I could not, would not, and did not go back to sleep.

From my position on Abe's roof, I could take in all of the town at night. If not for the light of the moon and the stars in the clear night sky, Granford would almost be invisible. A few spots of light appeared here in there in windows; the hospital especially had yellow squares of light set in a checkboard pattern on the side of the square building. But compared to a normal town at night, Granford was a ghost; it wouldn't attract zombies from all over with giant flashing lights. It was smart, efficient, and being in the middle felt like it was cloaking me from so many things, things I wish I could avoid thinking about. The dangers beyond the town's walls, the dangers within them... And maybe all the handiwork of Draco Malfoy.

Nott's revelations had made me pause, really pause, and I had come up to the roof to think. Voldemort had accidentally created The Dementor's Stigma by feeding experimented-upon Muggles to Dementors, who, when they next bred, spread a type of soul magic-based disease, a curse and a virus all in one. What happened next, the pain and the death, I knew of intimately. But it all went back to Voldemort, his ideals, his insanity, and his followers, the ones we didn't put in Azkaban for whatever reason that we justified to ourselves at the time. How far back would I have to go to beat the coming trials? The game of the Wizengamot had been stacked against me from the start, and my friends in high places weren't helping much. Ogden and his family are easily threatened, and the world will burn before Gawain Robards acts on something like this without destroying my side as well. It went down to the solution, the one key of information that I could use to outplay Malfoy's agenda.

Whether that solution would get more killed, from my friends to my allies or even to Astoria Greengrass, that was worth pausing and mulling over.

My brainstorming was interrupted less than an hour after my talk with Nott, and I guessed midnight had just passed when Ellie Ogden came up through the roof access door. Her long dark hair was tied back in a loose ponytail, and it made her fringe look longer, climbing down near to her nose. She was dressed in a dark cloak over a jumper and jeans; more clothes than the last time I'd seen her. When she saw me, her eyes tried to identify where exactly I was sitting, before lighting up in realisation. My makeshift perch was the invisible trunk that held the broomsticks she and the others would be using to escape the town in case of attack. The trunk was pressed up against the chimney, and I had decided against a cushion or anything like that. Ellie seemed to take that all in before making a decision, closing the door behind her and crossing the roof.

"Hey," she said, settling down beside me. There wasn't much room on the trunk, so her arms brushed against mine. She didn't appear too fazed by the cold air, maybe because of my Warming Charm bracelet, though she crossed her arms anyway and held them tight to herself.

"Hey," I said back, only looking at her in the corner of my eye. "I see you're wearing clothes this time."

She made an odd sound, a bit of a laugh and a bit of a squeak. "I think you like me better this way."

"I think that's up for debate," I said, a faint tease in my voice. "I only really objected to the manner of which I woke up."

She laughed, real this time, and I laughed with her. Some things just need to be laughed off, sometimes, especially when I already covered with her why appearing in my bed naked might just get her cursed, and the fact she was doing it for the wrong reasons - scared by the situation, desperate to make a connection, et cetera - and I understood it all. But to push past her mortification and her embarrassment, well, some things could be laughed off. Despite the feeling of our worlds coming down around us, we just laughed this off.

"Couldn't sleep?" I asked when we were done, looking towards her.

She nodded her head. "You couldn't either."

"Just thinking."

"About Sarah?"

I hadn't been, until she mentioned it. My hand automatically reached for my jacket pocket, where I kept the ring I never gave her on a chain. I'd almost forgotten that thing was there; I'd almost forgotten a constant reminder of just exactly what I was doing. It had been moved from its spot around my neck to my pocket more and more lately, especially when visiting Astoria. Just one of those unconsciously things people who feel guilty do, I suppose.

But now that Sarah was in my mind, I couldn't help but remember that Malfoy knew what The Stigma was as soon as he heard about it. While it didn't go truly public until right up until the end, Draco Malfoy would've found a way to know about it. If he had weeks to plan, he could've spent those same weeks telling us, telling those who could prevent what came next, exactly what we were dealing with. The thought didn't hit me hard, it just hit me like a soft _oomph_, a revelation that was so far down on the list it didn't even surprise me. The idea that Malfoy's inaction towards helping, him instead focusing on the magical utopia to come, and that inaction leading to the outbreak and the lockdown and Sarah's death... Damn him.

Ellie seemed to pick up on my sudden bad mood, and she asked, "What was she like?"

"Sarah?"

"Yeah."

There wasn't just one word to sum up Sarah Fawcett, so I used many. "Kind, beautiful, smart. She was one of those people who just knew people, could connect with them on a level I never really got the hang of. When she knew them, she could sympathise or chastise appropriately, but more of the former than the latter. I'm not saying she was perfect, we had our fights like any other couple, and near the end there was a moment when she- no. I, um, but she was as she was, somebody I loved dearly, and -" I cleared my throat to remove the sudden obstruction, and my voice was weaker as I continued. "She was just a great woman. I've known a few in my time, but Sarah was _the_ woman." Maybe she won't be forever, and while that thought made me feel slightly guilty, at the same time... Life is about moving on, and Sarah would understand that; she understood a lot of things.

Ellie nodded, wearing a sad smile on cold-tinged lips. "You two worked together, right? At St Mungo's? I would've thought they would've had a thing against working relationships."

I chuckled. "Oh, they did, and we did a get a bit of grief from people who, really, didn't matter. Healer Hunt, our team's leader, was fine with it. It was Hunt's creed, one of his many, that if we wanted to get it on in our spare time, that wasn't his business. And he knew better to try and stop young people in love. As long as we didn't, and I quote, 'fornicate in front of patients', or 'be so distracted staring at each others bits that somebody dies', he wouldn't bother. Decisions like that never made Hunt popular, but he was damn good at what he did, the best, so they let it slide."

"Sounds like you thought a lot about the guy."

"I don't think much of authority figures, and Hunt never saw himself as one, so that made things easier. He was the one who taught me how to really heal, and I respect him for that."

"I thought you'd be an Auror or something," she said. "Just felt like the thing you'd do, from what I heard back when I was younger. Err... No offence."

"None taken. And there was a time when I wanted the same, but only for a lack of other options in mind at the time. But I tried it. After the Battle of Hogwarts, there were Death Eaters out and about, and me, Ron and Neville all became provisional Aurors for the summer. The whole job was... hard, especially then. I burnt out on being an Auror, and Hunt's offer sounded more feasible by the time I was back at Hogwarts for my actual seventh year."

"Hunt's offer?"

"He offered me the job..."

Ellie shook her head from side to side. "No, I got that, but when did he make the offer? Why did you really want to be a Healer?"

"Why are you asking questions?" I shot back.

She smiled sheepishly. "It's late, the night still has a bit to go, we're both tired but not sleeping. And, well, trying to push past the incident earlier. I just want to get to know you more."

I leaned back against the cool brick of the chimney, and Ellie squirmed beside me, leaning her head as comfortably as she could without resting it too close to mine. I could forgive her curiosity in this case, and the words just came out.

"It was after the Battle of Hogwarts," I began. "Ron and Hermione and I were coming down from Dumbledore's office. They went to the Great Hall to be with the Weasleys, but I didn't want to face them yet. So I wandered, and my feet took me to the Hospital Wing. Compared to the Great Hall, which was in hour two of the thirty-six hour party that followed, the Hospital Wing was just as bustling, but in a more strained, desperate way. Kinda hard to describe, but there were Healers and Mediwizards running around, and since they were clogging Pomfrey's Floo, somebody had had the idea to make a hole in the side of the castle and make this slide thing. They would shuffle the patients down the slide all the way out past Hogwarts's ward boundary, and Portkey them out to Mungo's from there. Either way, it only added to the chaos of it all. When I got there, I immediately wanted to check on my friends, the ones who got hurt in the battle. They were all pretty banged up, and some of the worst ones had lost entire limbs, or were affected by Dark curses - some still are, even now. Anyway, I was there to check on them, but I soon realised that my presence, as a spectator, might not be wanted. I felt so in the way at first, but then there was Hunt."

I smiled in remembrance. "He was this scarecrow of a man, tall and sallow with salt-and-pepper hair sitting flat on his head, and the most noticeable thing about him was the scar running from the middle of his cheek to halfway down his neck. At first, I remember thinking he'd been injured in the battle, but that scar was old, very old. His voice was scratchy and gravely, but his words carried. He was leading the effort, this man, this Healer, barking orders at everyone there. Nobody seemed to have put him in charge, but was in charge anyway, and he was damned _good_. Then when he saw me, there was no recognition, no telling me off for being in the way. He barked at me to get a Blood Replenishing Potion, I asked if he wanted a specific blood type variation, and right there, he found use for me. He had me grab potions, help lift patients down onto the slide, and taught me some spells on the fly, all so I could help. And I did help. I fixed broken fingers, helped cauterise a bad curse wound, and the whole time, to the Healer, I wasn't Harry Potter, the man who just killed Voldemort. I was just helping. That's all there was to it.

"And it was afterwards, when it had all died down and we took a break, that we got talking."

..::..-.-..::..

"You did good in there," the Healer said, tapping the bottom of his pipe and spewing the refuse of his last smoke out onto the blood-stained grass. Before the battle the spot where we stood would've held a lovely view, with the lake to one side, the castle to the other, and the Quidditch Pitch off in the distance. Now, people were still fishing bodies out of the lake, both human and Acromantula; one of the castle's towers had collapsed into the castle, the rest of the rubble certainly detracting from the old, majestic, look; and the Quidditch Pitch was a burned shell, courtesy of a Death Eater who'd gotten friendly with Fiendfyre back in the battle. It wasn't such a good view anymore, but it was where we taking our break.

"Thanks," I replied, because it felt like those words hadn't come easily to him. "I've never really done anything like that."

"But you know which end the potions go in."

"I wouldn't think that would be a regular problem."

"Some people would surprise you."

I snorted. "I've had enough experience with Pomfrey to pick up a little here and there, but nothing big."

"Hmm," he grunted. "It's not hard to pick up if you have a head on your shoulders that isn't entirely hollow."

I couldn't disagree with that, and, not sure if I was being complimented again or not, stayed silent.

"You like the feel of it?" he asked, packing the pipe with some brown-coloured leaves.

"Feel?"

"Of saving people. I've found that, after a battle, with all that went down, the little victories in the aftermath taste all the sweeter."

"Yeah, I felt a bit of that," I said. "I also felt... Like I was in control, you know?" He nodded wordlessly. "Even on the smallest things, like the girl with the broken fingers. I know it wasn't life-threatening, but she still needed to be healed, and that's what we did."

The Healer nodded again, lighting his pipe with the tip of his dark, springy, wand.

"I can almost forget the rest of the battle," I said quietly, more to myself than him. "Almost."

"It takes it away for a moment, Healing and saving," rasped the Healer. "I've been in more than a few battles in my day, but back at Mungo's I have a team. We work on curse wounds, the real nasty stuff that requires extra attention. We have to find countercurses, find ways to heal those that won't respond to certain spells. Sometimes we just have to make it up as we go along." He took a pull of his pipe and breathed out the smoke. "I'm Hunt. Johannsenn Hunt."

"Harry Potter."

"Yes, I'm aware. I'm also aware that Robards and Shacklebolt are going to want to snap you up as an Auror as soon as they can, but what I want you to do is think for a second before making it a permanent deal. As a Healer, you can save people like we just did on a daily basis. Aurors fight their wars, but our wars are just as important. If you liked that feeling that much, when you helped out just now, and if you liked being in that control, know that Healing can be a natural outlet for both your want to save lives and be in control of the circumstances. I'm not saying the job is perfect - hell, you'll feel more pain Healing than being an Auror, but I'm saying, right now, that I could make you a Healer."

I thought about it barely a second, and the first thought tumbled out of my mouth. "I still haven't finished Hogwarts. I don't really _know _Healing -"

"Yet," Hunt interrupted forcefully. "And I look for people I can use, that I can trust, not academics and bookworms. People with sense, and understand the stakes. People who won't flake in the middle of a crisis. And if there's anything Harry bleeding Potter should be, it's capable in a crisis. I doubt you got this far by flopping about like a Flobberworm."

"No I did not."

"Then I'd have you right out of Hogwarts, even if your NEWTs turn out average. Healers spend years in classrooms, but most of your training will be on the job, with me. If you screw up, I'll send you packing, but we both know you didn't need to be told that."

"No I don't," I murmured to myself. However... "Can you give me time to think on it? Like, a few months?"

He shrugged in a way that made it clear he expected that. "Shacklebolt will have you running around as an Auror for the summer. You'll get a taste of that, and if you decide Healing sounds better, I won't be shocked." He took one long pull from his pipe, and his next words were smoky. "You have time, think on it. Consider options, make a choice. Just remember that nothing's for life, whatever you choose."

And with that, he walked away, limping on his left leg as he did. I watched him go, towards the ward boundary no doubt to return to St Mungo's and those that still needed medical attention there, and my thoughts ran the range from curious, cautious, nervously excited... but the main one involved the need for sleep, especially after being up so long and having so much happen with the battle.

There'd be time to think about Hunt's offer.

..::..-.-..::..

"I decided by December," I told Ellie now. "True to Hunt's prediction, I was an Auror for the summer, and like I said before, I burnt out. If I had to use word to describe it, it would be crushing." I killed a lot more people in that summer than I ever did in the war, for example, and it took those experiences for me to realise how much of the actual war I'd been sheltered from. "The biggest loss, however, was probably my relationship with Ginny."

"I always wondered what happened between you two," said Ellie, gesturing for me to continue.

"She lost her brother in the battle, and a lot of her friends in the DA," I explained. "Then when Luna and her father were killed, we both simultaneously realised we weren't going anywhere in our relationship. So we forced things forward, and it almost worked, too." I smiled to myself. There were days in that summer that were among the happiest of my life, days that made for great Patronuses, but... "The Auror work got in the way. It changed me, Ginny picked up on it, and in her own grief over Fred and Luna and insecurities, she changed too. We just fought and fought until we collapsed into each other, our relationship we had tried so hard to keep alive more burnt out than my desire to be an Auror. We were still friends afterwards, and still are now, but I think I'm lucky that I have much from her. It just happened. Life does that."

Ellie _hmm_'d in agreement.

"So my next step was to get some lessons from Madam Pomfrey," I continued. "I went to her after the first day of classes, asked for remedial tutorials in exchange for various services - gold or potions or whatever she needed - and she took me on. I wasn't her only student, and she'd been doing these sorts of lessons for years. Sarah was once one of her students, and Pomfrey had a funny story or two about Sarah's boyfriend when she was, Stevens or Stebbins or whoever. Anyway, that year there were only two of us to work the Hospital Wing - myself and Astoria." My thoughts began to drift to Astoria, as they had been more and more lately. I thought about how she'd called out my name in rhapsody, more than once. That was good. "By December, I just knew. Told Hunt, and that was that. I met Sarah soon after, started Healing after that, and things just went on. It was hard, at first, but I knew it would be. It always will be."

The sky was still dark, Granford was still in shadow, and the air was cold. Dawn was a long way away, and there was still time to pass before the new day would begin. I turned to the pensive Ellie. "Any more questions?"

She hesitated. "Plenty, but... I don't want to pry too much, or prod something you don't want prodded."

"Oh. Like...?"

"I was going to ask about the lockdown. I heard stories, vague ones, but all I know is that it ended with the hospital burning down to the ground, and hundreds died, and... You survived. You and some others."

There was a still moment as her declaration hung in the air. My mind went to dark places at once, to fire and death. The darkness of Granford seemed all too much for a second, and I looked towards the light sources: windows here and there, and to the hospital specifically. A hospital, so different to _my_ hospital.

"I haven't talked about it with anyone," I said reluctantly. "For good reason."

"I know, Harry," she said softly.

"Neville and Su could tell you more, and they would shield you from the worst of it -"

"Which I don't want."

"But why?" I asked seriously. "Why would you want to know that? How it began, the inception, one of the first major losses of the wizarding world... the one that started it all. Why?"

She shuffled her feet. "Earlier, I showed up naked in your bed. I did it because I thought I bonded with you, thought that you'd, well, you know. Because it's the end of the world, and we could die tomorrow by zombies or Muggles or Dementors, and I was wrong about that. And I've said sorry and you've been nice about it, and we've joked, but I feel like I shouldn't have done something like that without actually knowing you first. I thought, when we talked about things back at the cottage, that we had gotten to know each other. We had, but not fully. My life's an open book, but yours... Yours is bigger. And..." Ellie let out a heavy breath from deep within her chest. "I saw you just now, talking about things you haven't talked about or even thought about in a long time. Can't you feel that it might be cathartic, to let it out and explain and rationalise what happened? Maybe talking about it would let you come to grips with how it happened, and you can _focus _on what needs to be focused on now. I want you to be at your best, and I think if you talk about it, you might... Realise something, or even if you don't, you can..."

_Remember what I'm fighting for_, I thought.

"There's a certain level of trust that would come with this," I told her. "I'd like to think you won't spill my secrets, especially not now, but you need to understand that if I say anything else, it'll require you to trust me, and me to trust you. Are you ready for that step?"

"Yes. You have to talk about this sometime."

"I don't know about that," I said bitterly. "But... if you want to know, I can tell. This is how it all began. St Mungo's, last year, The Dementor's Stigma." Which Malfoy caused. All that happened next was because of him. Ellie told me that it might focus me. Right away I could see what kind of focus might come out of this: rage at Malfoy's plotting, and wanting to beat him because of it. If there was ever a time to get how it all began down, to have it clear in my head, it would be now.

So I began talking.

"The Dementor's Stigma began in August, with one girl, eighteen years old. Her name was Vivian Waters, and she just finished Hogwarts. She was working as a shopgirl in an apothecary in Diagon when one day, there was a black lesion, a veiny and oily black thing, on her thigh. She took a basic potion, poked at it a bit, tried a few countercurses, and then used a Buchart's to try and diagnose it. Buchart's told her it was an unknown entity, and she went to Mungo's a few days later. She was shucked out with a salve an hour after arriving, but came back later to show off another lesion on her arm, and to show how the thigh lesion had gone from snitch-sized to halfway-bludger sized. The Healers kept her overnight for observation. It was another few days before they finally moved Vivian to Hunt's ward, to us. Then it began. Second and third case popped up, an old, retired, widower, and then a middle-aged father of three. By then we had checked the apothecary Vivian worked at for any possible causes, and research began on these mysterious lesions - these cold anomalous things that would pop back up after we removed them with magic or no - just about when the neverending fevers began. With the new cases we had a whole bunch of new variables, and, then..."

It was all downhill from there, but the lockdown itself started with a newspaper article.

..::..-.-..::..

"Read this," said Hunt, tossing the rolled up newspaper at me. Behind him, the body of Vivian Waters, our first patient and now first victim, was laid out on a stone slab. The morgue's air was cold and the lights were dim; I could make out that Hunt looked like he hadn't slept, and if what Su had told me was true, he hadn't. He'd been working for hours to save Vivian as her body finally shut down, and it had taken its toll.

I put aside what I came there to tell him as I read the paper, and I found what he no doubt wanted me to find right away.

"Well," I said when I was done reading, weariness settling into the back of my head. "They seem to know an awful lot. You've read this, I take it."

"I did," he said, scratching the coarse hairs on his chin. "They _do_ seem to know an awful lot."

That in itself was strange. The _Daily Prophet_ was never on the top of my reading list because of their usual propensity towards sensationalism rather than accurate facts, and when it came to articles about St Mungo's gossip, they usually did more harm than good. Just last year two successive cases of Dragon Pox had turned into a hospital full of hypochondriacs because the _Prophet_ said it was a deadly outbreak. And _that_ had been a Page Six article. The Dementor's Stigma, the name coined by Healer Carrie Cauldwell and relayed to the _Prophet_, had gotten front page treatment, overshadowing an article on the recent riots in the Muggle world. Wizarding news was always more important than Muggle news, so the article on The Stigma would soon be the thing everyone would be talking about.

The article spared no detail. It told of the progression of the disease by using the examples on hand - Vivian, our first case, being the control - with pictures of the black lesions, a description on the various ways it fought off being removed, then a paragraph on the fever that wouldn't go away, but most of the attention was towards the hallucinations. They started a couple of weeks after initial symptoms, and vivid anecdotes of some of the things the patients saw were all quoted in the article. Conjecture from our team's part made us think the disease was connected to the Dementors' breeding season, possibly spread though the mist. Hence, the name we gave it, and the _Prophet _had taken that and run with it all the way.

The worst part was the accuracy of the details, as well as the article directly mentioning an insider source giving the reporter this information.

"And whoever it was made sure to point out there's no reason to panic, because there's been no fatalities," I said grimly. I gestured at Vivian's body. "That says otherwise. The paper lied."

Hunt snorted. "I believe our leak should've waited another day before allowing himself to be quoted."

"Oh yeah, if that's not a wand backfire, I don't know what is." I briefly scanned another set of opinion columns on The Stigma from the _Prophet's_ editors. "So... guesses? On who the leak was?"

"One comes to mind," Hunt muttered. "We'll deal with the leak later, but for now, I need to talk to someboy. Then... we'll deal with the girl."

I nodded. As unfortunate as it was, Vivian's post-mortem examination could potentially lead to a solution to preventing any more deaths. Going by her rate of infection, the second patient, Earl Young, would have less than three days before his body would finally succumb to the fever as Vivian did. That time was essential now, and we did not need the distraction of a _Prophet _fear-igniting craze.

I made a move to leave the morgue, but paused at the door when I realised Hunt wasn't following. He was slumped on the chair beside Vivian's body, his expression sour and tired.

"We did all we could," I reminded him quietly.

He raised his head, dark grey eyes meeting mine from across the room. "Of that, I'm well aware. It's what comes next that we have to do all we can to prevent. I don't want anymore deaths." He pushed back from his chair and limped across to me, and we walked out of the room together.

I didn't say anything, because when Hunt got determined, there was no stopping him. We'd all been working pretty hard since the start; The Stigma was the ward's priority case since all the beds had been filled up by disease victims. There had been sleepless nights, hours and hours spent poring over books and experimenting with potions. The patients had suffered here and there for the battery of useless solutions we'd put them through, and I knew that one of the first things Hunt would look for in the examination was whether or not something we did had finally pushed the fever into killing Vivian. But I personally thought that The Stigma had finally run its course, and told Hunt as much.

"We should consider ourselves lucky," I said. "You see the opinion pieces on Page Six?"

"I know _I'm_ glad that Miss Waters wasn't transforming into a Dementor," Hunt said blandly.

The morgue was in the basement level, and we took the stairs up to the second floor, keeping the lifts free for anyone carting bodies down. The staircases were painted a bland white, and dull black arrows pointed towards each floor's various functions. It wasn't a very pretty-looking staircase, but the fact was that it was only less than a year old, the old rickety one lined with portraits being fazed out and the newer, sturdier, stairs being put in thanks to a generous donation from Christian Selwyn, coincidentally around the same time he wanted to avoid going to Azkaban. As for the portraits that once hung the walls? Well, in the process of making the new stairs, they'd been moved to storage, and nobody quite felt like getting them back. It made the trips between floors all the better, and created a few opportunities for private moments with Sarah.

From the basement we went up to the second floor, the landing taking us into a large, oak-panelled, hallway, lit by crystal orbs of white light hanging in the air above our heads lazily. Witches and wizards in lime green robes, the crossed bone and the wand insignia of St Mungo's on their chests, bustled about, more than a few tipping their heads to the two of us in recognition. A few patients were too walking, or in the case of one, hopping, from wards to the stairs or to the lifts and back and forth, a never-ending series of people going in and out like clockwork.

We took a left instead of a right at the end of the hall, and I knew we were headed for Hunt's office instead of the ward.

"So you said it's at Hogwarts?" said Hunt as we walked.

"Yeah," I replied. "Pomfrey Floo'd me this morning, and I checked on the girl myself. Twelve years old, early stages of The Stigma. Black lesion on her shoulder."

He grunted, and I knew that as a gesture to continue, so I did. "She'll be moved here when Pomfrey contacts the parents, and I'll get Carrie to organise another bed to add to the ward -"

"Or we give her Miss Waters's."

"Oh yeah, that." I shook my head. "I was coming to tell you when Su told me Vivian finally died. This is going to be our sixteenth patient affected with The Stigma."

"One dead, fifteen to follow if we don't act now," Hunt said determinedly.

"And how are we going to do that?" I asked him.

"I need to send a letter to Robards. We're bringing in the Aurors."

_That_ got my attention. St Mungo's was its own entity not at all dependant on Ministry control. While it made the place easy to corrupt - hey, at least we got new stairs - it was a solid move that kept the Ministry out of trying to control potential outbreaks along the way. The nature of Curse Healing, the speciality of Hunt's team, sometimes involved needing to find the origin of the curse, and if it was something that was cast by another wizard and could only be reversed by that same attacker, the Aurors would need to be brought in to make an investigation out of it. They wouldn't be running the show, no, they'd be more like liaisons, temporarily borrowed until the crisis was resolved.

"You told me Robards was giving you trouble a few weeks back," I said.

"Ever since his cousin - the ninth patient, the one with the beard - got The Stigma. I didn't want his Aurors poking around for the wrong reasons, so I told him off. Then, he decided to approach Chairman Mungo directly, who's been giving me grief about it. Robards has had two liaisons ready to give to us for a week now, but I've prevented it."

"How?"

A look of amusement crossed Hunt's face. "Just haven't replied to their letters. They still need me to sign off on it."

I laughed. "Of course. You know the liaisons?"

"Senior Auror and a junior one, probably. Probably Lobell, and one of the younger ones - maybe your ginger friend."

Or it could mean Neville, and if either one was possible, it'd make things go a lot more smoothly. "Sounds good," I said. "We're going to the Aurors now because of the article, or Vivian?"

"A death changes things, and like I said before, Mister Young, our second patient, has three days if he follows Miss Waters' timetable." He grimaced. "And the article..."

Hunt paused in the hallway, wheeled himself around on his good leg and limped off in the other direction, heading to the ward, and away from his office.

When I caught up, I asked, "What about Robards?"

"Later. I need to yell at somebody first."

I found out who when we arrived at the premier Curse Healing ward, the one built after a generous donation by a certain former Death Eater after the first war. The Lucius Malfoy Ward was headed by Head Healer Johannsenn Hunt, and a golden plaque detailed the Healers assigned to the ward: Michael Rackharrow, Carrie Cauldwell, Oliver Lancelot, Sarah Fawcett, as well as trainee Healers Harry Potter and Su Li. The ward was one of the newer ones despite being over a decade old, and was spacious enough to fit more than a dozen beds, though usually only held ten in less crisis-filled times. The ward itself was no different to look at than the others; lots of white, a solitary window at the far end, and some more floating crystal baubles.

When we arrived, only Carrie, a matronly woman with dark hair, was there. When she saw Hunt, and the murderous expression on his face, she immediately put on her best kind smile and said, without a trace of sarcasm in such a way that probably made it sarcasm, "What a lovely morning it is. Hunt, Harry, how can I can help you?"

"Where is everyone?" Hunt asked.

"Su went to the tearoom, Sarah's writing the letter to Miss Waters's parents, and Michael and Oliver haven't arrived yet." Carrie answered promptly. "Why? Team meeting? Your office, ten minutes?"

"No, I can -"

The doors to the ward burst open, and Oliver Lancelot waltzed in with his robes billowing behind him. He was maybe ten years older than me, an average-looking guy with unparalleled knowledge of exotic potions. Unfortunately, he also knew that he had that knowledge, and it showed sometimes. "You would not believe what happened today!" he exclaimed, rushing to us. I noticed that he was clutching his hand close to himself, and frowned at it. "I'm getting some milk from the shop by the flat, right, and this drugged-out shopkeep up and bites me on the bloody hand! _Muggles_, right, I don't even -"

"You're fired, Lance," said Hunt definitively, with no fanfare. "Your loose tongue is going to start a panic, which is the last thing we need right now."

"But, I, wha -? How did you know it was me?"

Hunt smiled calmly, a scary smile that spoke volumes on just how well he knew the people under his employ. "Apart from the fact you just confirmed it now? I'd kept a close eye on everyone since the Dragon Pox thing last year, and, well, you're not subtle, Lance, and you never were."

Lancelot's mouth dropped open and closed like a goldfish, and it was a good impersonation. "But I am this ward's foremost expert on foreign potion mixtures, and -"

"People can be replaced," Hunt said. "Especially on my team. I need people I can _trust_, and while I make exceptions to some of your various quirks, I will not take this bullshit lightly. Go down to Moser and get yourself some actual Healing done until I can reassign you."

"You're pushing me on Moser? Reversing spell damage with the trainees?" Lancelot said, brandishing his bandaged hand to make his point. "But Hunt!"

"No, you're right. Get your hand looked at first, then go down to Moser and get yourself some actual Healing done until I can reassign you."

"You can't -"

"Get out of my sight."

Hunt was one of those people who didn't need to add the "now."

Lancelot recoiled under his boss's gaze, huffed to himself, and beat a hasty retreat out the door where he came from, passing Sarah on the way.

I hadn't even seen her there, but my heart did a little jump and my day suddenly seemed a bit brighter as she smiled at me.

Her hair was long and blond, clipped behind her head enough to keep it away from down past her neck and from in front of her eyes, though stray locks escaping their confinement framed the sides of her face. Her face was very easy on the eyes, with an especially cute mouth and a few freckles spotting on her nose and cheeks. Her eyes were hazel and expressive, and it was thanks to this that her moods were easier to read. Underneath the lime green robe she wore - like the ones we all wore - there was a slender body that was well looked after by her and very much appreciated by myself.

Hunt nodded a greeting to her, and turned to Carrie. "When Rackharrow gets here, keep everyone _here_, you understand? With Lancelot gone, we'll need all the wands we can spare. Keep an eye on Mr Young, especially." She chirped a reply, and Hunt's focus went to me next. "Potter, now that I'm riled enough by that twat Lance, I'm going to go deal with that twat Gawain Robards. Be there at the Floo when he sends over the liaisons, and brief them. I'm going to examine Miss Waters after, got it?"

When he was gone, Carrie went to work in monitoring our second Stigma patient, and I gravitated towards Sarah. As I got closer, I noticed her eyes were bright, but not with happiness, and her smile was sad.

"Hey," I said softly, reaching forward to grasp her hand; as much as I wanted to hug and kiss her in greeting, we tried to keep that away from the patients as much as possible.

And yes, I'm aware that Lancelot's outburst was another thing we should've kept away from the patients, but half of them were in fever-induced comas or deep into their hallucination fits, and wouldn't notice if the hospital caught on fire.

"You headed off early this morning," said Sarah.

I smiled apologetically. "Pomfrey Floo'd, wanted my opinion on something at her domain." The smile vanished. "There's a Stigma patient at Hogwarts. One of the students. She's twelve."

Sarah looked very sad right then, and she murmured to her feet, "Our youngest yet."

"Hey," I said again, bringing her head up to my level. She was nearly as tall as I was, so it wasn't a great movement. "I know you were friendly with Vivian before she died."

"I was."

"And you know we're going to find out what caused it, because that's what we do."

"My sister was her age," she said. "The Stigma affects people at random, and now it _kills_? We always thought it was a possibility, but with the fever being as endless as it was..."

I knew what she meant. After we couldn't find a link between the patients - apart from the magical thing, but that was dismissed - hope for finding out exactly what this Stigma was and how to reverse it had diminished. And while Hunt, Carrie, Rackharrow and Lancelot had all experienced total loss in outbreaks like this one before, Sarah, me and Su hadn't, and Sarah was taking the possibility of it all hard. And because she was, I was too. She took it hard because she was one of those kind of sympathetic people, and her tenacity in helping people was one of her qualities that was both admiring and infuriating. More the former than the latter, but I was biased.

"Maybe when we figure this out," I started, because I _knew_ that we'd figure this out, "we can go away somewhere, just for a little bit. A weekend, maybe a whole week, just... go. And we'll find a nice spot to do all those romantic things normal couples who don't work as much as we do would do, like picnics."

A touch of humour re-entered her expression. "Picnics?"

"Or something."

"But you're so attached to the idea of picnics."

I chuckled. "Yeah, right. Either way, after we've done, we'll organise a lunch at your parents' house, and invite your sister."

She nodded. "You could bring Teddy along too, if Andromeda wouldn't mind."

"That would be something." I thought about the weight in my pocket, one that I'd been carrying with me for a few weeks now. It was purchased on what I'd like to call romantic spontaneity, but really it was more of a drunken whim I had last time I went out with Ron. When I'd woken up with the ring in my pocket, my first thought hadn't been that it was a mistake, or that I should take it back. No, my first thought was that I could see myself marrying Sarah one day, and that thought didn't scare me. Well, at first. The nervousness that came afterwards set me on edge for about a week, and I came to the conclusion I'd always be nervous, but...

It was just Sarah. Right then, right now, I wanted to marry Sarah Fawcett.

But I didn't get on one knee right there in the Malfoy Ward. Not today.

"I might head down to the first floor for a bit until the others get here," Sarah declared, straightening her shoulders and leaning towards me, giving me a soft kiss on the lips. It was over too quickly, and the lingering shadow of her lips on mine made me want more. "You're not going to get into trouble while I'm gone?"

"Aurors are involved, and they're probably Robards's toadies," I replied, sighing. "If he tries to recruit me one more time I might just kill him."

She giggled. "Doubtful."

"Say hi to Lance for me, if he's down there."

She laughed again, reluctantly released my hand from hers, turned and walked out of the ward. I knew why she was heading down to the first floor, because it was something Hunt encouraged us all to do. Most of what the Spell Damage floor dealt with was very reversible, and there were always a line of unfortunate wizards and witches in need of Healing. After losing a patient, if you felt down, going to do some Spell Damage work brought that feeling of little victories, and after a loss, you'd need all the wins you could get.

After Sarah left, Su Li came back, carrying a cup of tea for Carrie, and the three of us spent twenty minutes checking up on the patients, making notes about various spikes and falls (Chills one minute, hot flushes the next), of the increasing size of some of the lesions (Mr Grey's lesion was now completely covering his left eye), and even trying to transcribe the hallucinations the patients were experiencing, in the vain hope they were all similar enough to be considered a connection of some kind. After spending a few minutes writing down the murmuring of a woman who'd lost her husband to a Death Eater attack, I felt slightly sick doing it, and felt worse when I realised Lancelot had taken down some of these reports just to sell to the _Prophet_.

And just when I thought I couldn't stand to write another word, there was a noise from across the room, the Floo fired on, and two men came tumbling out, one after the other. The first man had sandy-coloured hair, a round face with two sharp scars on his cheeks, and looked uncomfortable in crimson-red Auror robes. Following him was an older man with a steel grey hair flat on his head, and a no-nonsense look to him. The two Aurors spotted me and made their stride purposeful, and I walked forward too, grinning casually at the younger of the two, Neville Longbottom.

"Good to see you, mate," I said, and he grinned back. We shook hands, and I turned to the older one. "Auror...?"

"Lobell," he said with a tone crisper than a fallen autumn leaf. "Where's Hunt?"

"He had to examine our first victim," I replied. "I'm here to give you all access to whatever you'll need, but Hunt wants you to know that it's our jurisdiction."

"A girl is dead, and I need to see the body."

"Hunt's examining her," I said patiently. "For now we should coordinate notes, then I'll take you to Hunt."

"I know what there is to know about the case. We've been waiting for weeks for Hunt to sign off, and we've been prepared. For example, this disease might just involve the Dementors, and one of our other Aurors has been sent out to investigate Azkaban personally at great personal risk. I'm wondering who's pulling their weight more."

"You've been involved for what, five minutes?"

"Healer Hunt's vaunted team never thought to go to test the Dementors?"

"Sir, Harry, maybe we should, you know, stop," said Neville, stepping between us. "It isn't in anybody's best interests to fight now, especially with a dead body in the mix."

"Is it now?" Lobell raised his eyebrow. "I need to see Hunt and that girl now, and since he isn't here, I'll ask somebody in charge to take me to him. That, I'm afraid, is not you, so the senior-most Healer in the ward will be...?"

"Healer Cauldwell will be the one you want, then." I nodded, conciliatory. "If you two would follow me -"

A sharp alarm echoed through the air. It sounded like a rough clanging sound mixed in with a Muggle air raid siren noise, and warbled and whined out of nothing but the walls of the ward itself. I barely had time to process this horrible noise when all the floating crystal lights went from white to red, and a wooden shutter shuffled down to cover the window against the wall. The entire ward became bathed in this red light, and a few of the active patients started to react, mumbling and yelling and one woman shrieking at nothing, desperate to be heard over the din.

The worst part was that I had absolutely no idea what was going on.

"Carrie!" I called out, walking back to the older woman, her hands pressed over her ears. "Carrie, what is this?"

"What? I can't -"

"Can we turn the lights back on or -"

Other voices added themselves to the cacophony, a chorus of everybody's worst fears coming to life in the middle of a hospital ward bathed in crimson, blinding us with just that colour until our eyes adjusted.

And, not at all helping matters was Johannsenn Hunt storming through the doors, one hand clutching at his neck, his footsteps hard and his face harder.

He waved his wand and the alarm cut off, but the lights stayed as they were.

"We have a problem," he said succinctly.

I wandered closer, but Lobell beat me to it. "Hunt, what is the meaning of this?"

"Lockdown protocol. Lobell, isn't it? Charmed." He grunted and pressed his hand on his neck harder. "Harry, Carrie, Su! Form up."

We did, joining Lobell and Neville together in a half circle around Hunt. Now that I was closer, I could see the dark blood staining his hand, collar, and robes. "What happened?" I asked, peering closer at his neck.

He removed his hand, and blood spurted out into the air. It landed on the floor beside Su's feet. "Lovely," she commented, but the concern on her face was evident.

She, Carrie and I had our wands out instantly, white light shining on the vicious marks oozing blood on Hunt's neck. Carrie immediately set about chanting a Healing spell, waving her wand in a clockwise circle, but Su and I kept the light going and examined the wound closer. They were puncture wounds, but there were tears near to the holes, like something had sunk something sharp into his neck and pulled it out roughly, turning round holes into rough wounds. I knew immediately after that this was a bite wound of some kind, and a nasty one.

I knew it was especially nasty when Carrie's first spell fizzed out and healed nothing.

"That's not a good thing," said Neville. "How did you get it?"

"Teeth," Hunt said tersely. "Dead girl with teeth."

Carrie and Su immediately tried more spells, focusing on individual holes and trying either cauterise and close the wounds. When they tried the former, Hunt didn't even react to the burning at the side of his neck, and when the smoke cleared it became evident why: the bite mark had not been cauterised, at all. Carrie kept trying, but eventually Hunt got sick of the show and snapped, "Don't you think I tried that?"

Su, at least, withdrew herself from reaching distance. "What did you mean by -"

"Dead girl, he said," said Lobell. "Dead girl? And what's this red light? Hunt, if this is some trick to subvert the Ministry's authority -"

Hunt glared. "I am not leaking this much blood for anything of Robards's, so shut up. I don't like you already." He turned to Neville. "You, boy, are you smarter than him? I might need you."

"He's solid, Hunt," I cut in. "But first, what did you mean by dead girl? An Inferius?"

"Why were there alarms and the red light, because that's the more important question," said Lobell.

Hunt rolled his eyes. "It's a quarantine lockdown, like in the drills. We never activate the full system for the drills because it shuts down the hospital, but everyone here should know the basics."

"I may've skipped that day," I said quietly. Sarah too, come to think of it. Good times.

"The lockdown's supposed to protect the world from outbreaks of any kind," Carrie explained. "St Mungo's sometimes finds itself in these kinds of situations, and we have to ensure that some of the most deadliest magical diseases in the world don't spread. So everything gets locked down. The doors, the windows, the Floos. The wards go up, some of the best wards in the country, and there's even an enchantment like a Bubblehead Charm surrounding the area to prevent airborne disease from escaping. It recycles the air inside, though, to prevent us suffocating to death."

"And you activated it?" I asked Hunt, who was still bleeding everywhere and looked more and more unsteady on his feet as time passed.

"All senior personnel are able to, and I did as soon as I could. It was the only way."

"Why?" Neville asked.

"Vivian Waters. She was dead, we saw her, confirmed it. I was _there_ when she bloody died, and I felt her go. But, when I got down there again, she was moving. I'm not talking about your regular kind of moving, like you or me, but she was... shuffling. Like her legs weren't working right. At first I thought it might've been because she was in a bed for over a month, but other things took precedence. Like the fact her skin was pale, her eyes were clouded over, and she wouldn't respond to anything I said. I tried restraining her, but the spell just absorbed into her. I used a Stunning Spell, but it did nothing. I used another. And another. I was about to conjure ropes to see if I could tie her manually when she came up to me, held her arms out, reached forward and fucking bit me." Hunt grimaced at the blood covering his left hand and replaced it with his right to keep pressure on the bleeding wound. "I kicked her away and she went, because the lift opened down the hall. She went towards the poor sod who came out, pushed him back inside, and the doors closed before I heard the screaming. I locked this place down as fast as I could, but it's possible she got out on any of the floors."

We all stood in silence for a moment. Then, "What do you think it was?" I asked.

"It?"

"Her. You said it was Vivian? Was she actually alive?"

"Sounds like an Inferius to me," said Lobell. "One of the Healers down there playing with necromancy."

Carrie was shaking her head. "Where would a _Healer_ learn reanimation spells -"

"The same place anyone else would," Lobell interrupted. "But we find the girl, we find who's in control of her."

But Hunt was shaking his head. "It didn't feel like it. She was a walking corpse, dead girl, all right, but I don't think she was an Inferius."

"One of the treatments we tried," guessed Carrie. "We mixed the wrong things together and created a post-mortem puppet effect of some kind. I would have to talk to Lancelot or Michael about their treatments, but it's a sound theory. Case files have shown -"

"A reanimated corpse, though, with enough awareness to bite people?" Su shook her head. "If I had to guess, it might be that one of our treatments actually killed her, but The Stigma kept her going -"

"Like it kept that fever going when she was alive," I finished.

"Yes. Exactly that."

"Or it could just be necromancy," Lobell said firmly. "I've worked cases before, and it's possible that -"

"You're all wrong," Hunt intoned, and that made us pause. "The bite, you idiots. She bit me and you can't heal it with magic. It's resistant to it, just like she was. But if she's a corpse that's why a Stunning Spell wouldn't work, but if a wound like mine is resistant to magic, what does that mean?" He gestured a hand around the ward, the Lucius Malfoy Curse Healing Wa- Oh. "Curse wound. Passed on through bite. A type of infection, maybe in her saliva, or her blood mixing with mine. But a curse wound, like that, would mean it came from a curse source. Usually it's a spell or a potion, but it was transferred through the girl. Infection of what she got."

"A case of the Inferi?" I asked.

"The only curse disease she had while she was alive was The Stigma."

Carrie went pale. "And if it was The Stigma that killed her..."

Upon closer inspection, the veins around Hunt's bite wound seemed oddly black in colour, like they were stained in ink. Curiously, but cautiously, I reached forward and pressed the tip of my index finger against his neck, just above the wound.

It was cold, very cold. The same kind of coldness, an oily and nauseating kind of cold, that we felt when handling The Stigma lesions.

The same cold of the disease's namesake, the Dementors.

"Hunt," I said quietly, "What happens if it kills you?"

"If?" he replied, gesturing with his free hand to the profusely bleeding wound. "_When_. And I have a couple of guesses."

Lobell swore. "Can you stop the lockdown? If we bring in the Aurors -"

"The entire place is locked down for good reason, and I couldn't stop it if I wanted to," said Hunt. "We have a walking infectious disease, and I saw her already bite another person - if he died, and if he came back like she did, there could be a chain reaction. In close quarters like this, with people scared by the lockdown alar -" His voice suddenly gave out, and he spat a globule of blood onto the ground. After clearing his throat with loud, wet and ugly, noises, he continued where he picked off. "I need to make an announcement. You all need to hole up, and fast."

Lobell was shaking his head still. "But if we get to the Aurors, they can initiate a quarantine."

"St Mungo's has it under control. This same protocol has been refined and added to for centuries. It's saved the world from more diseases than you'd think. The hospital will stay as is for twenty-four hours. Then, there'll be an opening for the outside world to contact, and from there, coordination from personnel inside Mungo's and out will make sure that it's under control, completely."

Neville didn't look so assured. "And if it's not controllable?"

Nobody needed to answer that question. We had imagination enough, and the idea that the Ministry would simply write St Mungo's off wouldn't shock me.

"Is the lockdown centred by floor?" I asked.

Hunt started to shake his head, but stopped immediately and winced. "No, it just protects the hospital from the outside world, not parts of the hospital from each other. That's more the individual ward's responsibilities, and it's what my announcement will advise, that they lock down immediately."

"Good," I said. "I'm going down to the first floor to get Sarah. We'll need all hands up here, and I'd rather not -"

"Yes, go. Watch out for Vivian's teeth. We'll lock this place up when you get back."

"I'll go too," Neville volunteered, turning to his senior Auror to assuage him immediately. "There could be panicking patients on the first floor, which is the biggest and holds the Spell Damage wards. If they see a Ministry Auror, they might feel the situation is at hand, in time for Hunt's announcement that they should lock themselves down."

Lobell took a moment to think about it, before nodding slowly.

Soon, Neville and I were out of the ward, walking through the eerie red hallways towards the stairs. Healers were running back and forth and trying to get information from each other, and I saw one get a nasty shock as he tried messing with the crystal lights. Neville and I shared a look after the man got sorted out by another few Healers.

"Bit different than when you're usually here," I commented.

"Putting it lightly." Neville chuckled weakly. "Regretting becoming a Healer yet?"

"No. Regretting staying as an Auror?"

"No."

"Drinks when we get out of here?"

"Many."

I got the feeling that, when all this was over and Hunt and a few others were dead, a few drinks might have to be consumed to block it all off.

I also got the feeling I was hideously underestimating the situation.

The staircases were empty, but since they had open access to all of the other floors, shouts, of fear and of anger, could be heard echoing up and down. From above us we heard a great booming sound, and I took that to mean somebody had poked the lockdown wards. A part of me twinged and wanted to be up there, making sure nobody was hurt, but another part, a part that I kept dormant after my disastrous summer as an Auror, took over. I may've been joking about it with Neville, but I was in a battle now, and not just your usual Healer work.

It was almost eerie how much the sounds in the staircases reminded me of the Battle of Hogwarts.

From the first floor landing we dove into a larger, wider, hallway, and taking a quick left took us to the biggest ward for spell damage victims, the ward's system allowing it to treat a patient and send them off to wherever they needed to be - home or a hospital bed for another few days for observation - right away. The ward itself was blocked by two sets of double doors, and when I got close enough to peer through the glass, I saw more than the usual amount of chaos for the Augustus Prickley Ward. And when I opened and the doors and every head in the room turned my way, I got the feeling it would only get worse.

Inside, scattered on beds and near the small operating areas shrouded by privacy curtains, there was the usual circus of patients with injuries that straddled that line between amusing and horrifying. I mentally diagnosed more than a few right away; man with no skin on his left forearm, but it wasn't burnt off, so he probably ate one of George Weasley's prank sweets. A woman with a peacock's head where hers ought to be; simple transmogrification, easily reversed. Another man was carrying his own head in his arms; splinching accident, a very clean splinch that left him headless, but not dead. And finally there was a young man with a pair of garden shears sticking out of his back; he wasn't bleeding or anything, it simply looked like he and the shears were existing comfortably with each other. When I spotted Sarah standing near this man, I made my way over there.

"What's going on?" the man with no skin on his arm demanded, blocking my path.

"Auror!" One of the Mediwitches cried, waltzing up to Neville. "Auror! What's going on here? Why was there an alarm?"

And so on, and so forth.

Neville stammered out a placating speech as a crowd gathered around him, and when he picked up speed he had them listening in rapt attention. He didn't go into specifics, but he was quick to assure them all what was going on and how it was all under control.

I was too busy making my way over to Sarah to listen fully, and when I got to her, her attention was back to the patient.

"Sir, you have a pair of garden shears impaling you," she said, her voice placating. "If you'd just let me have a look -"

"They're not hurting anybody," the young man said stubbornly, crossing his arms in front of the handle-end of the shears before his chest.

"You could be dealing with some serious internal damage, even if it doesn't feel like it."

But the man kept shaking his head no, and I had to wonder if he had some mental damage too.

I drew Sarah's attention by tugging at her hand, and got her to leave the patient behind by gesturing to Head Mediwitch Moser to take him. We found a little corner of the ward, and everybody who could be was gathered around Neville by now.

"A lockdown?" Sarah asked. "Who locked it down? What's the disease?"

"That's why I came down here," I said quietly. "It's The Stigma."

Her mouth dropped open. "How? We've tested it - it's not airborne, and it doesn't pass through touch... Is somebody out there spiking everyone's food with infected blood? Harry, did the disease change?"

"Yes, yes it did. Vivian Waters came back to life."

Sarah's eyes flashed. "She was dead, I saw her, I checked. I came in this morning and she was _dead_."

"I know."

"Necromancy? Here? That's just..." She frowned. "But, given the look on your face, it's not necromancy."

I nodded. "We think The Stigma revived her, and the infection that triggered the lockdown was passed through a bite. Vivian bit Hunt, and someone else we haven't found yet, and the wound is cursed. Hunt's going to die, Sarah. Vivian's still out there, a walking corpse, a walking infectious disease, and that's why we locked down."

"How long will it take?"

Neville answered that very same question from across the room, his voice clear and strong. "The hospital will be locked down for twenty-four hours."

That didn't go over well, and Neville's wand erupted in sparks to keep the crowd at bay. "Further instructions will come in a general announcement, and it will come through the walls like the alarm just did. But for now, we need you all to stay here, and stay calm. Aurors will be here to check on you, and the Healers will be more than happy to make you all comfortable as can be until this is resolved. But for now, please, when you lock the doors, don't try to get out. For your own safety until the situation is one hundred percent resolved. Now, who's usually in charge here? Can I have them come forward?"

As Moser made her way up to the front, Oliver Lancelot walked up beside us, clutching his bandaged hand. "What the hell does that mean?"

"Until we take care of it, Lance," I told him. "You still haven't got that hand looked at?"

"_This_ happened first," he snapped. "What's going on, seriously?"

I nodded towards Neville wordlessly, and Oliver rolled his eyes. "Yes, I heard that. But who triggered the lockdown, and _why_? Was it Hunt? Is that why you're here?"

"Oliver, leave off. Hunt doesn't want you involved, and I agree with him on the why." He opened his mouth to protest, but I shushed him. "But, I know that you're not entirely stupid, and can handle things here with Moser. So stay put." I looked behind him and saw a pot-bellied bald man hovering nearby. "Look, see, you have a patient."

Lancelot turned, assessed the man, and scoffed. "Some idiot who swallowed something dragon-related, and who's been vomiting flame since."

As if on cue, the bald man leaned over and coughed out a fireball, scorching the floor.

"Take care of him, and take care of the rest of them," I ordered, before turning to Sarah. "We're leaving, now. Neville's finishing up, and we'll be needed back to the ward."

She nodded, and after we collected Neville, we were off. After we left the Prickley Ward, the doors locked shut behind us, and protesting wizards and witches could be heard all down the hall.

We were halfway back to the stairs when I encountered my first zombie.

Now, by this point, we'd gone down to every ward and got those inside to calm down and lock their doors. Neville went up to the other side of the floor to lock down the second-largest ward, and Sarah and I went on ahead to the stairs. We were about to turn into the hallway leading to the landing when a figure shambled into view.

The man was tall, with reedy brown hair down to his shoulders. In life, he may've been handsome, but here, now, he looked more than a little... corpselike. His face was exceptionally pallid, his eyes glazed over in a dull white colour. Oh, and there was a huge chunk of his nose and neck missing, a bloody hole where the former was and a gash on the latter. When he saw us, he made his way towards us with a loan moaning sound erupting from his throat. His gait was slow, his arms stiffly held in front of himself. Sarah let out a little noise of surprise at the man's sudden appearance, but I was a bit more composed.

I whipped out my wand and shot off a Stunning Spell for the first time in years. It did nothing, sinking harmlessly into his skin.

"He's dead," I murmured. "Like Hunt said. Walking dead."

Inferi, I remembered, were very much susceptible of fire, but right now, I didn't want to destroy this thing, because my first thought was about how to, well, reverse it and let the poor bugger rest in peace, or even come back with fully human functions... Wishful thinking, probably. But still, I didn't want to destroy it, but needed to gather him up. After throwing another Stunner, followed up by a Jelly-Legs Jinx, an Impediment Jinx and finally, a Petrification Spell. None of them had any effect. And before the undead man could cross that final distance towards me and bite me with teeth I noticed were exceptionally bloodstained, I conjured thick black ropes, the cords shooting out the tip of my wand and wrapping themselves around its legs.

The undead man collapsed under the ropes and onto the ground, and, assured that he was tightly bound, I crouched down to get on eye level with it.

"What are you doing?" Sarah asked, fear in her voice.

"Legilimency," I replied. "I need... to see."

I locked eyes with the dead man, concentrated hard on what I was about to do, something I'd only done a few times, and only just in learning circumstances. I murmured, "_Legilmens_," and I dove into its mind.

All my concentration was on the spell, and everything dropped away one by one. Sarah and the rest of the hospital turned to black, and sound muted into nothing just as Hunt began his announcement, no doubt repeating what Neville had said but in that blunt, scratchy tone of his. When all my senses dulled, I began the Legilimency. Scanning surface thoughts with the spell was always a chaotic process at first. Snape was right about the mind not being an organised thing one could just waltz into and pluck what was needed from it. Another person's mind was a scary place for people to venture, and things had a habit of just _appearing_, pushing memories into my own head through the link, things I had trouble forgetting. The Auror who taught me the basics of Legilimency a few years back had lived a hard life, and it showed in the memories I came across. Although they were no walk through a park on a sunny day, all of those memories had rhyme and reason to them; they were there because that's what the person's mind was, even if they didn't want to think about them.

When I ventured into this dead man's mind, I didn't know what I'd expect to see. At first there was nothing, just darkness, and I thought it was because, after all, this man was dead. Then, a single thought. No memory, no flash of insight. A whisper in the dark, soft then loud, of the yearning for... food. _Food_. The thought was hungry. As soon as I realised, the Legilimency spell pushed itself forward naturally, and the assault began. Food, hunger, rage, the want, starvation, the need, the instinct, the _food_.

It was a dead man, with one thought, and that was on its prey. _Us_. Human beings.

I thought about the Dementors, who we believed started this whole thing. They used despair and negative emotions as their weapons, turning the most confident of men into snivelling wrecks, and that was only them basting the meal before going for what they really wanted: the soul. They were always hungry, people would say, hungry for souls. We kept them at bay with the Patronus, but they'd never stop being hungry. I'd learnt that in my third year when they attacked for no reason other than hunger and the fact they hadn't been warded off with a Patronus for a while. This thing, this zombie, was a product of The Dementor's Stigma, and it was just as hungry. But since it couldn't perform a Dementor's Kiss, and because it had teeth, it would eat.

"Harry!" Sarah's voice cried, and I pulled myself from the darkness of this thing's mind as fast as possible. My entire head lurched back just in time to avoid the dead man's teeth. I got the sudden feeling I'd gotten closer to it, unconsciously, while performing the spell. If Sarah hadn't have warned me...

I reacted immediately after snapping my head back, whipping out my wand and blasting the dead man, still in his ropes, back into the wall beside the staircase landing. Its neck snapped at the force of it, but from the gasping noises from the back of its throat, it was still alive. My wand tip exploded in brown light, a barking sound not unlike a cannon fired, and the zombie's head exploded in a shower of blood and gore, coating the wall and the floor liberally. For a second the stump of its neck spurted blood, but the body itself was still.

Neville came around the corner just in time to see me stand up and take a step back from the body. "Why did you -?" he asked.

"I read its mind," I replied. "There's nothing left but hunger, insatiable, impossible hunger, and... I _reacted _when it dove at me. I don't know if there's something worth salvaging in there, Nev, and that's the worst part. It might mean there's no going back from what that, that, _thing_. We might have to kill them."

"And how do we do that?"

I kicked the headless zombie's foot. "The head. Aim for the head." I kept an eye on the corpse for another second, but, assured that it probably wouldn't get back up again, I turned to Sarah. "We need to get back to Hunt."

She was looking from the corpse to me, her eyes wide with an odd expression I couldn't quite place. It didn't look like she'd heard me.

"Sarah," I prompted.

"Yeah," she said after a moment. "Yeah, we have to..."

I took her arm with my free hand, keeping a gentle grip on it. Neville went up ahead to check the stairs, and I led Sarah close behind.

We were back at the ward ten tense minutes later, after a trek through the second floor's empty hallways. I'd been busy mind-reading to hear Hunt's announcement, but it had obviously gotten through. The wards were all locked tight, including the Malfoy Ward when we got there. Su saw us coming through the glass window on the door, and opened it up for us.

Sarah went in immediately, disengaging from my grip as she did, and I let her go. I stopped Neville before we went inside and said, "Do you need to check on your parents?"

He shook his head as if the thought had occurred. "It all started on the lower floors, and they're on the fourth... I have to hope that the Healers locked them down securely."

"Just because you're here for work doesn't mean they shouldn't be your priority in this."

"Harry, it's fine. I'm worried, yeah, but they'll be all right. Come on, we have work to do."

When we got into the ward, Su locking the doors behind us, we found the others converged in the middle of the patient beds, all of those occupying them asleep. If I had to guess, it was to keep them calm, and it would've been Hunt's idea. I appreciated the silence as we approached the group, all watching as Sarah poked at Hunt's wound with her hand. I opened my mouth to tell her not to bother, but the pink light at the end of her wand dying and a spurt of blood erupting from Hunt's neck and splattering her cheek and ear kind of proved the point well enough.

"Thanks for trying Sarah, but it's too late," rasped Hunt. He was leaning on the end of one of the patient beds, his pallor just as unhealthy as the zombie back on the first floor. One of his eyes was bloodshot, and his teeth were stained red from vomiting blood. "I'm done."

Nobody had anything to say to that.

"I met one of them on the first floor," I said to break the silence. "A walking dead man."

Hunt gazed at me sharply. "What did he look like?"

I shrugged. "Brown hair, long, tall... Plain robes. He was wearing plain robes."

"Fuck," said Hunt. "The man I saw Vivian bite was a Healer, with blond hair."

"And that means there's more of them out there," I surmised. "In close quarters like this, and with people not knowing what's going on until they're already being chewed on... We've locked down the wards now, but there might be a few strays."

"Which we will _not_ deal with," Hunt said firmly. "Safety is paramount, and increasing the rate of infection in this lockdown will only lead to a hospital full of corpses by the time the Aurors can get in."

Auror Lobell frowned, but said nothing.

"How did you deal with him?" Hunt asked me. "The walking corpse."

"The head. I blew up his head."

Hunt nodded. "Basic brain function keeps them walking, though it must be the magic that reanimated them. The Stigma curse."

It hit me then, when Carrie started to sob and Sarah bit her lip, that Hunt was really, truly, going to die. It seemed to hit us all at once, a black cloud of despair and uncertainty hovering over our heads. Hunt, our leader, our mentor, our guide, was about to _die_. The Malfoy Curse Healing Ward suddenly felt empty and foreign.

"I can't be here when I turn," Hunt decided, pushing himself off from the bed and swaying woozily on the spot. "Might go lock myself in my office. Die in peace." His gaze went to Lobell first, and his voice turned hard. "Lobell, as to what we were talking about before this lot came back, _don't_. This is a St Mungo's crisis first and foremost, and your way will get people killed when they don't have to be." I wondered what the hell that meant as Hunt turned to Neville next. "Keep him in line."

And his expression turned fierce as he looked us over, fierce in a determined, almost paternal way. "All of you _survive_, you hear? When this gets cleared up I still want my life's work intact, and you lot are the legacy for that. And I won't spare long goodbyes, don't have long myself, but..." He reached out and squeezed Carrie's hand. "You stuck by this entire time, even though I made you miss your kids' birthdays so many times. Thank you Carrie. And when you get out of here and talk to Rackharrow, tell him the same." To Su, he just nodded brusquely, and I could imagine that he gave her some vague approval while telling her to keep her chin up. Su seemed to understand well enough, though, and she nodded back. Finally, Hunt looked to both me and Sarah, as a couple and not as separate people. "Save all that you can," he rasped. "And damn it, _survive_. In twenty-four hours, there'll be a way to contact the Ministry. Until then, keep the hospital in check with announcements like mine. Got it? You damn well should."

Six sets of eyes watched him cross the ward, unlock the doors, go through them, and... The doors slammed shut behind him.

..::..-.-..::..

Sometime during the retelling, Ellie had snuggled in close to me, and I found I didn't mind. My voice was flat, listless, as I said, "I never saw him again."

Ellie said nothing.

"But let me tell you about Hunt's office, the place where he went to die. It is not your usual neat administrative office. As much as Hunt despised paperwork, and who could blame him, he still spent a lot of time in that office. And, well, it showed." I chuckled. "He adds a new filing cabinet every year for all the knowledge he collects for what we do. Potion recipes, old wives tales on curses, anecdotes, even some tablets from Ancient Greece. What he can't fit in those cabinets he throws everywhere. The floor is littered with books, his desk is a parchment tsunami, and best of all is how he kept adding expansion charms in places in order to fit it all. The leftmost wall is purple because of a bad expansion charm, and there's unusual amounts of room underneath his desk. But anyway, we always met in there for meetings. There was always enough room for it, but at the same time, we were cramped. I remember this one time, maybe three months after I started dating Sarah, we had just successfully saved three Muggleborns from a Maxilla Curse.

"Basically, we had ten hours to reverse the curse, and the pureblood who cast it didn't know the counter, so we had to make it up as we went. I bullied Ron into giving me access to the Auror archives, Sarah sent letters to shamans in Africa, Lancelot exploded six cauldrons and made the ward smell like garlic for six months. Su passed out in exhaustion after putting her all into a spell that didn't work. Rackharrow and Carrie were both called in from their homes for the night, and still managed to coordinate with Hunt to prevent the curse from killing anybody. It was a tough, frantic, night, but afterwards, we were all cramped in Hunt's office. Hunt was behind his desk, playing with his pipe - not smoking it because Carrie told him off. Sarah and I were sitting on filing cabinets, giving each other little looks when we thought nobody was noticing. Su was asleep on the ground, curled up in a ball. Rackharrow and Lance were leaning on walls, glaring daggers at each other after some minor incident during the night. But, in the end, we all just laughed tiredly, because everything seemed funnier now that we saved those three lives in under ten hours like that. We later registered the counter for the Maxilla Curse with the Ministry, and that felt _good_. Mostly because it was the first countercurse our team as it was had created. Hunt has a draw full of the case files, like a proud parent would have a drawer full of his child's schoolwork. But Hunt, though he was never sentimental, smiled to himself the entire time in his office that night."

I cleared my throat and idly traced circles on my leg. "I like to imagine that, in his final moments, Johannsenn Hunt would know everything that was coming to him. He'd waltz into his office, step around the books on the ground, collapse in his desk chair, and lock the door with his wand. He'd fetch that pipe of his from the desk draw, and wait a second for Carrie to tell him off for it, but when he doesn't hear it, he would sigh, lean back, and light it up. He'd take one long pull, and maybe he'd take a moment to sigh, or to smile to himself while he looked through his desk drawer, at the work he and his teams over the years have amassed. Next, he'd remember what I said, press his wand against his temple... and blow his brains out onto the wall. In the end, that's how he would've done it. I don't like to imagine there was a zombie in Hunt's office, a zombie that was once our team's leader. It's easier my way."

Ellie nodded slowly. "He sounded like a great man."

He was, and with what happened next overshadowing his death, I rarely took a moment to think about it. When I did think about Hunt, I thought about his final words, about surviving, about saving. He had no idea what was coming next, of course, but he still managed to give one last piece of advice I'd follow to the end.

But now, with hindsight, I had to remember his first bit of advice, the one time he'd been so terribly _wrong_.

He'd said I had time, to consider options, to make a choice.

_"Just remember that nothing's for life, whatever you choose."_

I opened my mouth, and began talking again.

..::..-.-..::..

_To Be Continued in Chapter Eleven: Inferno..._

..::..-.-..::..

Post-Chapter Notes:

_- Next Chapter Tease ::_ In the second part of Harry's story, St Mungo's crashes down around the remnants of Healer Hunt's team. Not just with zombies. _Flaming_ zombies.

_- Wizengamot Scorecard ::_

- _Pro-Disclosure_ :: Harry, Neville, Susan, Antioch Boot, Brown, Patil, Hart, Diggory.

- _Anti-Disclosure_ :: Malfoy, Parkinson, Bulstrode, Selwyn, Gale, Burke.

- _Swing Votes_ :: MacMillan, Smith, Zabini, Cuffe.

- _Former Members ::_ Bill Weasley (Resigned), Isaac Aquilla (Dead), Hoster Harper (Dead).

- _Member Count ::_ Eighteen.

- _Status ::_ Evenstalled.

- _Pending Members :: _Astoria Malfoy (Greengrass seat).

Thanks for reading!

..::..-.-..::..


	11. Chapter Eleven: Inferno

_Standard Disclaimer_ :: All things Harry Potter belong to JK Rowling and affiliates. This fanfiction is a non-profit venture written for the enjoyment of myself and my readers.

_Dedication :: _To Zeitgeist, Seratin, Lutris, Vira and my friends from DLP, for putting up with my insanity, for reading early drafts, and just being there. Also, to all those who reviewed/favourited/alerted me or my story here on FFnet, cheers. Props to DLP for the feedback, too - anyone reading this who hasn't devoured their C2 on this very site must do so now. It's the first community on the list, for a damn good reason, and I'm more than happy to have this story a part of it too.

_Preface :: _The response to the previous chapter has been overwhelmingly awesome, so thank you all. I didn't quite feel it was as strong as it was when it and this chapter were once married together, but it set up a lot of the elements and the tension I was going for in Harry's flashback story, so I can completely ratchet up the action here, in what was easily some of my personal favourite series of scenes to write. This chapter also features a huge moment that just emotionally felt like it worked on every level to me, and I very much hope you all enjoy it too. Onwards to the monster chapter!

_Previously ::_ Still reeling from Nott's reveal that Malfoy is the man behind the pureblood agenda, Harry accosted himself to the roof of Abe's pub, soon joined by Ellie, who, in an attempt to get past her earlier slipup, prodded Harry about his past. Harry told her about the day he was recruited by Healer Hunt, a bit about Sarah Fawcett, and his brief stint as an Auror. Ellie finally got him to open up on the St Mungo's lockdown, and Harry, building a bond of trust with her, relayed the beginning of the story: The first Dementor's Stigma patient, Vivian Waters, died just after the release of an article in the _Daily Prophet, _a move which pushed Hunt into bringing in two Aurors, Lobell and Neville. After firing his department's leak - Healer Lancelot - Hunt went off to perform an autopsy on Vivian, and was bitten by her reanimated corpse, which went on to bite several others. Hunt quickly put the hospital into lockdown, and Harry himself encountered his first zombie while going to rescue Sarah. Hunt gave his team final instructions before sequestering himself to die, and Harry, Sarah, Neville, Su, Healer Carrie Cauldwell and Auror Lobell are left locked in the Lucius Malfoy Curse Ward as zombies walk the halls...

..::..-.-..::..

_Chapter Eleven of Sixteen: Inferno_

..::..-.-..::..

"After Hunt..." My words trailed off into the cold air, the planned sentence on my lips a second earlier crackling into nothing. It seemed easy before, every word and every action coming out in a wave, but I felt a sense of dread inside of me for what I was going to tell Ellie happened next. Hunt was just the beginning, and his death had not been easy to talk about; the worst was yet to come, and would I even be able to speak of it at all?

I almost told Ellie that I didn't want to go on, but felt bad for it. She'd been sitting there quietly the whole time with a pensive look on her face, absorbing everything I'd said, trying to reconcile it with the images she no doubt had in her head.

"So what happened to Rackharrow?" she asked after a moment, having caught my hesitation. "He never showed up for work? Lucky him."

Merlin bless her; I jumped for the answer immediately. "Never saw him again, so I'd say not," I replied. "I tried hunting him down afterwards, but when he didn't show up anywhere, I assumed the worst. Just another member of Healer Hunt's team, gone."

"I guess this story doesn't have a happy ending," Ellie said sadly.

To put it very lightly. "You'd guess right."

"And Sarah... I almost don't want to ask what happens next."

But she would, and even if she didn't, I would still have to think about it eventually. This story, about how it all began, the inception, had been filling my thoughts again for the first time in over a year. I hadn't even gotten to the truly horrible things yet; just how it began, how the lockdown was triggered, introduced the major players that Ellie already knew were all dead, and talked a bit about Sarah... Which was difficult. Beyond difficult.

Remembering her hurt. Talking about her, trying to stay detached about it, hurt all the more.

"What did you mean earlier?" Ellie asked. "When you said she had an odd expression on her face... After you killed that zombie, I mean."

I smiled to myself, but there was no humour in it, only pain. "Sarah saw a side of me then that she never saw before. I met her after I'd left the war far behind, after a lot of bad things happened to me. I always knew that it would stay with me, the instinct to fight, but I did a good job of keeping it down. Maybe I'd flinch every now and then and have my wand out without realising, but for years I never really... _reacted_, until that zombie. She may've understood about what I went through, but there's a difference between understanding and _understanding_." Like Ellie was just now _understanding_ what happened, because she heard it from the source. "I think about what she saw, and what she would see, every now and then, but the conclusion I came to was that she was just scared, in a way. It's complicated."

"And you never got time to think or talk about it," Ellie concluded. "Would she have believed you about the mind magic you used? Or would she have still wanted to save them first?"

"_I_ wanted to save them first," I said shortly. "I justified that reaction to myself, and would've used the same justification to Sarah: I was under threat and instinct kicked in. Afterwards, when we erected a new hospital, a lot of work went towards a cure. Because of what I saw in that zombie's mind, I knew there might not be anything to cure, because you can't cure death, even if they're walking around after. That's why I gave up on their work on the cure, because I knew. A few of the others that read the minds of our test subjects did the same, but some still stick with it."

Of course, there might yet be hope, or at least a fool's chance... Davies, a young man who was on my scavenging team, had been turned into a zombie by a Dementor. I say "zombie" loosely for lack of a better term. See, thing was, Davies was still alive, but the Dementors had sucked out his soul, all but the hunger instinct the regular, dead, zombies carried. I hadn't thought of that in a while - Liliford and the Wizengamot and all that happened afterwards took precedence - but the thought occurred to me now, because Ellie had prompted it. If I used Legilimency on one of these alive zombies, would I see a spark of hope for... _anything_?

Yeah, and maybe everything that ever happened in this past year could just magically reset.

I cleared my throat and let out a breath; it appeared in front of my face, hanging in the air briefly. No more hesitation; Ellie deserved that much, and, dammit, I needed to say it. It was time to talk about the battle in the inferno of St Mungo's hospital.

"After Hunt left, we locked ourselves down in the ward for six hours or so," I began. "We never talked that long and we didn't really move. The Stigma patients were asleep and would stay that way, and we monitored them out of basic need to keep ourselves busy with the routine. After six hours in that ward, I found myself in a corner with Neville and Sarah, our backs against a wall and us trying to keep the mood light, joking about Ron and Hermione and their chances of marrying before the end of the year... The ring in my own pocket, the one I meant to give to Sarah, was a heavy weight, but I didn't do anything with it. Anyway..."

..::..-.-..::..

"So what are we going to do about food?" I asked after six hours had passed. "I doubt the house elves can pop in and out. They can get sick too, and if the lockdown wards are _that _good..."

"I don't fancy popping upstairs to the tearoom," said Sarah. "Not if some of those things are hanging around."

"And _especially_ if they're serving that pumpkin soup today," I added.

Neville chucked quietly, his gaze on Lobell at the far end of the ward, pacing back and forth by himself. Su and Carrie sat next to each other against the other wall, and had been silent and still for the last few hours.

"Shit," I said. "I don't remember if Astoria had classes today or not."

"She didn't, Harry," said Sarah, who'd only met Astoria a few times but knew we were friendly. "It's a Saturday."

There were no classes on Saturday, and Astoria hadn't advanced enough to be working in a ward yet. She, and the rest of her class, would be fine outside the walls of Mungo's, which made me feel a little less disheartened. When we got out, I got the feeling we'd need a few more Healers to replace losses. _Hopefully not too many_, I added mentally.

"He's looking a bit wound up," I murmured after another silent minute, nodding to Auror Lobell.

"He is at that," Neville agreed, frowning.

"Something you're not telling us, Nev?"

"Work's gotten a little hectic lately," revealed Neville. "I don't know the full details - way above what they're paying me - but apparently there's some internal politics going on. Some of the senior Aurors, like Lobell, are trying to do something, but again, I don't really know."

"And you're telling me anyway?"

He shrugged. "This was always a temporary job, Harry, until Professor Sprout retires. And given the situation, and who you are, I don't think it'll matter what Lobell and people like Stark, Savage and Dawlish are getting up to."

"But work's been hectic? Not just office politics, but work?"

"A few people have gone missing, and for some reason it's Auror work, maybe because we're the better investigators, maybe because Dark Magic's involved, but -"

He was cut off by an echoing, blood-curdling, scream.

All of us were on our feet instantly, and mine, Neville's and Lobell's wands were out and pointed at shadows, trying to locate the source of the scream. I thought it to be a woman's, so I checked over Sarah, Su and Carrie, all fine, before venturing towards the ward doors.

Words tumbled out of the walls then, frantic and hurried, a woman's, "- help us. The Prickley Ward has been overrun, somebody bit somebody else, and we're -" She was cut off by a curse word, and the sound of something thick and meaty crashing into something solid and hard. "The doors are open, so we have to get out of here! Please, we'll need another ward to hide in, now." There was another crash, my bones chilling as the walls projected the sound. "Get them back here! Stay away from him, he's dead! Somebody please help us!"

If that wasn't my cue, I didn't know what was.

"Lance's down there," I told the group. "Prickley Ward... It looked to have several dozen people inside when we were there. No, we can't leave them to that."

"But she said they've been overrun," said Neville, frowning. "_Overrun_. By the dead?"

"Maybe they let somebody in," I guessed. "They ignored Hunt's advice and let in somebody who looked alive. Somebody who turned." I shook my head. "No, no talk. I'm going down there to save who I can. It's the only thing to do."

Another announcement bounced off the walls by the same amplifying spell, and the woman - who I thought might just be Mediwitch Moser - called out for help, over and over.

Lobell sheathed his wand in his wrist holster and crossed his arms. "If the other wards all rush out to help and get into a battle zone, not entirely aware of what they're dealing with and unwilling to do what needs to be done... It'll mean deaths."

"Then we go fast and prevent as many as we can," I exclaimed. "Neville, Lobell, you both in?" The former nodded instantly, the latter after a careful moment. "Okay, ladies, you stay here and -"

"I'm coming," Sarah volunteered, wearing no-nonsense look that made me knew arguing was futile in this case.

"Same," said Su. "I want to help, and you're taking me."

Couldn't argue with that either. Carrie, meanwhile, was quick to volunteer to stay behind. She wasn't a fighter and she knew it. "I'll stay here and mind the doors," she said. "If anyone comes by I'll check them for bites through the glass first."

"That's great, and smart," I said. This was the part where I made a plan up on the spot, where I thought about the layout, the time frame, and the fact people were dying _right now_. I almost appealed to Lobell, getting him involved without letting him overrule us, handling whatever anxieties or arrogance he had about the situation. But, again, it struck me that time was working against us, and the plan didn't have to be overly complex. "Okay, we leave now. Go to the stairs, make sure it's empty, head down, and the battle will start from there. From what I saw, the undead are slow, clumsy things and only have eyes for us. Apart from that, I don't know what they can do, so be vigilant. Remember, all of you, aim for the head." I looked at Sarah specifically. "Our own lives come first, so please, be careful."

We were off immediately afterwards, Carrie magically barricading the doors behind us. Our small group, Neville and me at the front of the pack and Lobell at the back, ventured out into familiar hallways, ones I walked every day. I was used to a bit more in the way of activity, and even now I expected a zombie or two, but the entire second floor was silent as a grave. It was eerie and more than a little frightening, walking through the hallway completely bathed in that red light, our group bunched together like a herd of cows walking into a slaughter.

And, after two heart-stoppingly tense, yet uneventful, minutes, we were at the landing, the stairs sitting in front of us. I signalled the others to stay put and I walked forward, peering in all directions.

Directly in front of us was nothing. Above, I could see three of the undead tripping over themselves to get up to the third or fourth floors. Below, I spotted two on the first floor landing, and, from the looks of things, they were eating some poor bugger, one using both hands to shovel scoops of flesh into its mouth, and another pigging on the side of the man's chest. Revolted, I stepped back and gestured to Lobell and Neville.

After taking another look, the three of us stood on the landing, bent our bodies forward and aimed our wands down. Three jets of light, mine a straight bolt of brown, Neville's a dark, pulsating, red accompanied by a whistling noise, and Lobell's a crackling arc of green lightning, shot out of our wands. The spells smashed into their backs, to varying effect. The odd angle of the shots had made sure that we didn't actually hit our intended targets. My spell exploded a hole in one of the zombie's lower back, Neville's went wide and smacked into the wall, and all Lobell's spell managed to do was burn the hair on the back of their heads. The weird thing was how the undead didn't seem to notice that they were under attack, and they just kept on eating with loud chewing noises. It gave us enough time to take aim again. Our next volleys, all different spells, were a bit better, but it was only after I shot off my third spell that both of the zombies were actual corpses, one headless, another with a hole in the back of its skull.

Without further preamble, the five of us pounded down the stairs.

"When we get down there, expect the worst," I declared in between heavy steps. "Now we'd want to round up the strays towards the second floor, so that's where we have to split. Su, Sarah, that can be your job, and Lobell can stay with them to make sure the halls are clear on the way back. Neville and I will try to push through into the ward proper, but the three of you keep back, and keep herding people through. The ones that are dead will be easy to spot. Hopefully." I turned down towards the final stretch of stairs to the first floor landing, where four corpses were waiting for us - the two from before, their meal, and the brown-haired man I'd Legilimency'd. "Remember that we will be walking into quite a panic -"

As if to illustrate my point, the first thing I heard on the first floor landing was screaming, and after that, more screaming.

The first hallway from the landing had nothing but those corpses, and we stepped over them easily enough. We turned the corner at the end of the hall and immediately saw a two men, both dressed in MediWizard robes, running our way, closely followed by one determined zombie. It would almost be amusing - what with one shambling monster chasing two men who looked like sports stars - if not for the fact there were liberal coatings of blood all over the place from behind where the men were running. The hallway leading to the Prickley Ward. More screaming came from around the corner.

Sarah intercepted the two incoming MediWizards and pushed them in the direction of the stairs, and they went, tails between their legs. Su briefly went back to make sure they weren't ambushed in the hall, while I took a moment to consider how I'd dispatch the zombie.

"What was the spell?" I asked myself, flicking my wand. "Piercing Curse, that's the one." The spell drilled into the front of the zombie's forehead, dead in the middle in what I'd consider a lucky shot, the force of the spell obviously hitting what needed to be hit; the thing crumpled onto the ground, motionless, blood pooling out of the hole in its head. Much neater than blowing up their heads, if you ask me.

Both sets of double doors that were supposed to be blocking off the Prickley Ward were wide open when we turned into the hallway, and inside and outside, a chaotic battle waged between humans and the undead. The hallway was choked with the walking dead and the corpses on the ground, one or two in the process of standing up again. The fleeing wizards and witches all tried to push past and most got eaten for their trouble, but one particularly agile woman slipped under the legs of a zombie and sped off past us, screaming for her life.

We got to work immediately. There were maybe ten zombies in the hall, but they were distracted and we had distance, and better aim than our earlier salvos. Lobell, Neville and I took down four of them in the first few moments, and a few of the survivors that hadn't been eaten yet took their cue from us and aimed for the head. A glorious rhapsody of spellfire sailing through the hallway, spells taking great chunks out of the walls and the undead, followed, and in the end, all there was was a sludge of blood and gore, coating the ground, the walls, and everybody standing in the middle of it.

But there were still more screams coming from inside the ward, and it was time to move on. Sarah and Su pushed the survivors towards the stairs, and Neville and I trudged through the mess in the hallway, desperately trying to ignore the squishing sounds and the smell of entrails as we did. Inside the ward, a dozen or so were pressed with their backs against the far wall, ineffectually firing Stunning Spells and the like at the incoming horde, outnumbering them two to one. The rest of the ward was a wreck, and several zombies were busy stripping flesh off of bodies to notice our approach or the spells that destroyed their brains.

As I walked forward, something heavy smacked into my side and moaned mournfully. I pushed myself away from the undead man's hands, and looked down at his chest. It was that one man, from earlier, who was impaled on the garden shears. In my shock at his appearance, I summoned the shears out of his chest, with my robes getting splattered in a rush of blood for my troubles. I caught the shears with my left hand and just held them for a moment, before shaking my head, rushing forward, and impaling the zombie with the pointy end, right through it's eye. The corpse toppled backwards, and I nearly went with him, pulling away from my grip on the shears at the last second.

That dealt with, my focus went to the group packed together against the walls, all semblance of wizardom having left them, men and women kicking and punching the walking dead and just trying, trying so damn hard, to avoid what was coming their way.

Neville and Lobell, the latter appearing from nowhere, each dispatched a zombie then, one's head rolling off, another finding itself with a metal spike through its nostril, but it was the targets they chose that were important. The zombies were on the fringes of the pack, blocking the way out for the group against the walls. When those two zombies went down, the fleeing survivors ran for the gaps. Three of them were grasped for and bitten before we could drop the biters. The other undead, moaning dumbly as their meals ran pushed through, started to turn, slowly but surely, their gazes fixed on _us._

Lobell took one look at the crowd, at the other bodies in the ward and seemed to make a decision. "It's too late," he murmured, backing out, slowly at first, then turning and outright running away.

"Where's he going?" I demanded of Neville. "What's he doing?"

Neville shook his head fiercely, but his concentration was where mine should've been, at the incoming group. The survivors, six less than there were earlier, crowded behind us.

Sarah showed up then, brandishing her wand and tripping a zombie over and onto the ground. "Harry, we saw Lobell go -"

"I'll get him later," I replied. "First, I need you to take these people out of here and back to the ward, and -"

Then she screamed.

Time seemed to slow down, my head moving to where she was standing in one impossibly long moment. I registered the flash of her spell, and an approaching zombie getting blasted away from her. A fierce look overcame her face, and I looked, looked and _looked_, and saw that she hadn't been hurt. I couldn't even describe the relief I felt then, nor the rush of fear the close call had spiked through me.

The feeling left me for something different when I realised who the attacking zombie was. Once a man in Healer robes, with average looks, blood around his mouth, and a bloodstained bandage around his hand.

"Lance?" I said incredulously, aiming my wand his way. "I'm sorry, but -"

There was a sound not unlike a great clapping of thunder, followed by a high-pitched whistling noise trailing a beam of light soaring through the air, and Oliver Lancelot's eyes exploded out his skull when the spell hit him. The corpse vaulted forward and landed at mine and Sarah's feet, and moved no more.

Su was at the other end of the spell, her gaze flat and her wand steady in her hand. "I never did like him."

"Harry!" shouted Neville. "We have to go!"

My head whipped back to the action, and saw that the horde was getting closer. The group we saved had already run back into the hallway. I took one last look at the Augustus Prickley Ward. No survivors.

I turned and ran away. Sarah, Neville and Su followed. When we got into the hall, three spells slammed the doors shut, and another four locked it.

"Fuck," I breathed out. The stench in the hallway was unbearable, and the little sobs coming from one of the women we saved were beginning to grate, so I got the group's attention. "Let's go, now."

We left the hallway behind, the sound of the undead banging on the ward's doors trailing us the entire way.

"What the hell happened?" I asked, directing the question at the group we saved from the ward. "Did you let anybody in?"

"Nah," said one. It was the bald man from earlier, the one who'd been vomiting up dragon flame. He looked more than a little worse for wear from the attack, but didn't appear bitten, just horrendously sweaty and covered in blood and ichor. "That Healer bloke from before, who the short one just killed, 'e just started goin' barmy. Died. A minute later, got up. Bit one, bit another, all went down from there."

"What about Moser?" I asked. "I didn't see her walking around in there."

"She ran off early on with a few of 'em. Don't know where. Was kinda busy trying to keep me 'ead, you know?"

"I do," I said, nodding. "Now I need you to keep it for a bit longer. What's your name?"

"Arch," he replied. "Archie Forscythe, me mum called me."

"Archie Forscythe. I'll remember that." I gestured to Neville. "This is Neville. What he's going to do is take you and the others somewhere safe."

"Sounds like a plan."

"After you all check on the other wards on this floor."

"I don't like that."

Well tough luck, Archie. You're going anyway. I ignored him and turned to Sarah next, the entire group now paused in the hallway, with two directions ahead of us: to the stairs, or to the other side of the floor, where the other, hopefully less-zombie-filled wards would be. "We need to get back to the ward. We need to see where Lobell got off to, and the Malfoy Ward's the best place." She nodded. "Neville, you know what to do? Take Su with you, and keep this lot safe. If people in the other wards want to come hide with us, they're free to. Just meet us back up on the second floor after, and be smart about it."

One of the other men, one I didn't know from earlier, cleared his throat angrily. "Who the hell do you think you are, eh? We just went through that _hell_ and you want us to walk back into it? Fuck that, I'm apparating out of here."

"The hospital's in a magical lockdown designed to keep magical diseases more powerful than all of us contained," said Su. "Apparating right now would not the wisest idea."

"And you're going to boss me around too, is that it?"

"We're wasting time," I interjected. "Sarah, let's go."

I didn't look at her face to see whether or not she had any objections. The state of things had to be wearing at her usual demeanour by now, but hopefully she'd just be following my lead out of love and the fact she knew I had more experience in situations like this one.

"To hell with all of you," the dissenting man declared, taking a step back. "I'm getting out of here, and there's nothing you can do to stop it." He affixed a look of concentration on his face, turned on the spot, and... Stopped, in his tracks. A fizzling sound, like a balloon losing all of its air, emerged from his body. When the man turned back around, the movement seemed slow and ponderous, as if he hadn't meant to...

Of course, when he turned back around, it became evident the man had splinched his entire face off, leaving nothing more than a dripping hole of crimson red. The body stood for a moment longer before simply dropping forward onto the floor, a squishy sounding explosion of blood bursting out onto Archie Forscythe's feet. The man groaned, and everyone else just stared in silent disbelief. Then the sobbing woman started up again.

But because this was at _least_ the fifth most horrifying thing I'd seen today, I prompted Sarah to follow me, and we made for the staircases.

The staircases smelled of smoke, coming from above us, but I desperately tried to ignore it. A feeling of dread, more than usual, had settled into my stomach since Lobell had run off, and I thought about what Hunt had said to the Auror before going off to die.

_"Lobell, as to what we were talking about before this lot came back, _don't_. This is a St Mungo's crisis first and foremost, and your way will get people killed when they don't have to be."_

The familiar path took us back to the ward uneventfully, until we found Lobell standing outside the Lucius Malfoy Curse Healing Ward, his wand pressed against the door and his eyes shut in concentration.

"Lobell!" I snapped, taking aim with my wand, a spell incantation at the forefront of my mind -

My wand went flying out of my hand and skittering off the floor. Lobell's Disarmer had been so fast I didn't see it coming, and I watched his wand tip aim towards Sarah next. She hadn't raised her wand before, but now she definitely wasn't going to.

"What are you doing?" I asked, as calmly as I could.

"What needs to be done," he replied placidly.

"Not really narrowing it down for me."

"The Stigma is the source of all of this. How many people have died already? Back in that ward we saw what happens when the disease is involved. I came here today to assess it, and I have. First hand." He summoned mine and Sarah's wands with a wave of his own, and pocketed them in his robes. "The Stigma must be eradicated from St Mungo's, and the lockdown allows us the opportunity to do that."

"How?" Sarah asked fearfully.

I thought about it, and my heart beat like a drum in my chest. _What's he doing to the doors?_ "The close quarters, the fact the only way out is to coordinate with the Aurors... He's thinking that if he sets it up right, he can get the Ministry to wipe out The Stigma before it spreads. He's scared, of this disease. Could be the newest pandemic, and with the rate of infection we saw earlier... Lobell's just scared."

"Potter, you don't know the half of it," the man himself said. "So much time was wasted because Robards was pressuring Hunt too much, because of his cousin. I'm here now, and that I come right after we confirm The Stigma is fatal? And this new adaptation, the rate of the infection with the bites? This lockdown needs to be resolved, and I have a way to resolve it."

"But you offered that solution to Hunt," I guessed. "When Nev and I went to get Sarah, you and Hunt had a chat. Hunt shot you down."

"Hunt was a Healer," Lobell shot back, placing an emphasis on the _was_ and the _Healer_ parts. "He'll place lives first while there's still a chance. But those people in that ward aren't lives anymore, they are breathing death sentences, for themselves and for us. There's no time to make a cure or whatever you intend to do. We need to act."

"Carrie's in there," Sarah murmured, then louder, "Carrie's in there!"

Carrie's voice warbled out of the walls then, by use of that amplification spell we'd been using all day, but in a localised field, just the hallway. "... going on? Harry, why did Lobell disarm you? Is he trying to get in? What do I do?"

"It's okay Carrie!" I shouted, hoping she could hear me through the doors. She could see me, that much was evident; I could spot her peering through the glass, looking past Lobell and to us with wide-eyed confusion.

"What are you doing?" Sarah demanded, stepping closer. I matched her step but sent a warning look her way, one that said: let's not be hasty, dear.

"The lockdown protocols have specific spells attached to each ward," Lobell explained, his back half turned to us and his wand swishing back and forth over the doors. "If those spells are triggered, a containment protocol will occur. In this case, the spell will suck the air out of the room."

"But Carrie's in there!"

Lobell didn't even blink. "I gave her a chance to come out, and she said she wouldn't until she was sure I wasn't bitten, or that Healer Potter here would be back. This is of her own making... Besides, the spell has already begun now. I won't stop it. The infection has to die in this hospital, and the wizarding world _must_ be safe."

"Harry? Sarah?" Carrie's voice echoed. "Harry, what's happening?"

"Bubblehead Charm!" I called back to her, desperately hoping she'd hear me but getting the horrible feeling she wouldn't. "You need to use a Bubblehead, now!"

Sarah stepped forward again, and a pure blaze of fury was alight in her eyes. "She has children, you fucker!"

This time, Lobell did blink. He just took in the situation. Sarah was approaching, looking about ready to throttle him. I was a step behind and half-crouched, my anger at its boiling point but a part of me still wanting to be cautious. Carrie, on the other hand, began pounding at the ward doors with her fists, increasingly frantic as time went on, seconds drifting by slowly...

"I have children too," Lobell said, voice quiet and crisp.

Sarah and I rushed forward at the same time.

A thick purple smoke billowed out of the end of Lobell's wand, and he became cloaked in it, the hallway soon following until all there was was smoke bathed in red light. The smoke didn't slow me or Sarah down, not in our fury, not in our urge to get to Carrie, stop Lobell, and just, _just_, survive. We ran right into the smoke together, and the acrid stench that filled my nostrils and stung at my eyes nearly dropped me unconscious with the sheer force of it. I closed my eyes and blocked my nose and mouth with my hand, listening to every small sound the best I could. Sarah's footsteps beside mine were lighter, but clumsy in the smoke, disorientated, and she coughed and choked on it. In the background, the loudest noise was Carrie's fists pounding on the glass, _bang_, _bang_, _bang_, but Lobell was in here somewhere, and if I just... A dull _thunk _signalled Lobell walking into the Mediwitch's desk sitting next to the ward. Sarah and I knew where it was because we walked these halls every damn day, but Lobell hadn't. I took the chance and let my feet guide me to where he would've bumped into the desk.

And when I thought I was close enough, I swung my fist wildly, hitting something solid and fleshy immediately. The tumble that followed wasn't gracious, but it was two grown men smacking each other around on the floor and the wall, in the middle of a magically conjured smoke, so really, a lack of grace could be allowed. Somewhere in the scuffle both of his iron-like hands found themselves around my neck, and that was what gave me the advantage. He'd dropped his wand earlier, and I had heard it, my mind registering where it would've gone. My left hand felt around for it and eventually, I got enough leverage to stab it into his side and silently cast a Piercing Curse.

Lobell went flying off me and the submerged wand and into the nearest wall, bouncing off onto the ground, blood splattering a trail out of his new wound. I took his wand in my right hand and dispelled the smoke around us with a gust of green wind, sweeping the smoke in circles until it shrank into nothing, a small _poof_ sound indicating its unmaking.

Right then, with my opponent down and the battle seemingly over, a part of my brain registered what had occurred during the fight.

Carrie's banging had trailed off, and by now, the sound had ceased.

Sarah went to the ward door immediately, while I fetched our wands off of Lobell. I left him there, clutching at his side and gasping in pain, to follow my girlfriend.

The glass of the doors was bloody, but ultimately appeared unaffected by Carrie's fists and spells. We looked around the glass and saw her body sprawled out in the middle of the ward, her bloody, brusied and broken hands around her throat and a pained expression on her face. She'd been clawing for air right up until the end.

Sarah looked away from the window and threw herself at me, and I took her in my arms. As she broke down, I just stared through the glass and at Carrie Cauldwell's body in disbelief. Hunt, Lancelot and the others in the Prickley Ward, and now Carrie... It was all too much, but the worst part was that feeling I had in my stomach now: there was more pain to come.

I held Sarah closer to me.

Behind us, there was a choking noise. "I didn't want to do that," rasped Lobell. "But it had to be done. For the good of us all... You'll understand. You'll see."

"And Carrie?" I snapped at him. "What was she? Collateral damage?"

He spat blood on the ground in reply, groaned, and rolled over. My Healer instincts told me to treat the puncture wound. My Harry instincts told him to fucking bleed to death.

Sarah, bless her, wasn't me, and through angry tears, she took her wand back from me and went over to heal Lobell's wound. "You'll pay when you get out of here," she promised him. "I'll be there for it. Count on it."

A rush of love for her swept through me, but that quickly turned to horror as I took in the scene inside the Lucius Malfoy Curse Healing Ward.

The patients, all fourteen of them, had suffered the same fate as Carrie, but had been blissfully asleep during the suffocation. I hadn't expected any activity from any of them, let alone _all_ of them, but, as it was dawning on me, I knew what was happening.

"The Stigma," I said to myself. "If you're infected, and you die, you come back as one of them."

All of the patients emerged from their beds, their skin deathly pale and their eyes a dull white. Every dead person in that room got up and started walking, except for Carrie. One of the zombies, our second patient Mr Young, tripped over Carrie's form as it circled around its old bed.

Carrie had been free of the infection.

I didn't know if it was a mercy or not that she didn't stand up again.

The zombies, once the patients our team poured so much work and effort and sleepless nights into, spotted me through the glass, all moaned and groaned, and began shambling towards the doors. I stepped back, and shot a spell at the door to reinforce it some more. I stepped back again, and again, until I was beside Sarah and Lobell. The undead began pounding against the doors when they got to them, a mob of corpses smacking with fists, faces and bodies, trying to get out and get to their food. All I could hear, beyond the noise and echoing in my mind, was Carrie's fists over and over, her final, painful, moments alive and fighting to stay that way... And failing.

Neville appeared from around the corner then, his face grave. The group trailing him had less than ten people in it, including Su, taking up the rear. "The other big ward on the second floor is gone," he reported. "I got all I could..." He trailed off and stared at Lobell, no longer bleeding out on the floor but not moving through the phantom pain of my spell. "What in the name of Merlin happened here?"

As if in reply, the undead inside the Malfoy Ward kept smacking at the doors and window with their fists.

"Neville... Auror Longbottom," Sarah said seriously. "As senior-most Healer formerly of Healer Hunt's team, I'm putting you in charge of the Auror liaison."

Lobell grunted something to himself on the ground, and I kicked him with a foot. "Quiet," I warned. "You don't get a say in anything now, not after Carrie." To Neville, I added, "You were right about him wanting to try and do something, and this is it. Apparently some people in the Ministry are desperate to avoid unleashing The Stigma. Deadly desperate."

"Well they might just succeed in containing it," Neville said gravely.

"You're saying they'll write the hospital off and let us all die?"

He shook his head. "I'm saying that the fourth floor is on fire, the fifth is following, and we saw the third floor catch some of the flames from the stairs. The rest of the stairs will be next, and then the rest of the hospital... And going up to the upper floors to stop the flames might not be the best idea, because I have an inkling of how they got that way."

I thought about the zombies climbing the stairs up to that floor, and of Vivian Waters, our first patient, hopping into a lift that could've gone anywhere. The undead didn't appear too intelligent, but they could've walked in open lifts, or scrambled up some stairs, and if somebody got bitten on one of the higher floors, a repeat of the Prickley Ward would've occurred. Despite Hunt's announcement nearly seven hours ago, the first reaction to an encounter with the walking dead would be thinking they were Inferi. And every wizard knew the thing to do when confronted with an Inferi: Fire. Fire, fire, fire. As I've found out, the only way to kill the zombies permanently is headshots, and unfortunately, fire might take a while to get to the head. So, those trying to fight the blaze might just find themselves attacked by flaming zombies. Enjoy _that_ mental image for a moment, Harry.

One alight zombie hits a wall or something, and ka-boom, the whole hospital goes up in flames, and the lockdown makes sure the hospital is the only thing incinerated.

"They're going to burn this hospital down," I said. "Dammit, and we'll be stuck inside."

I looked over the group of survivors we had on hand. Myself, increasingly tired and frustrated with events, not to mention just outright _angry_ at losing this many people. Sarah was focusing on healing Lobell, even though she was looking like she never hated anyone more, and she was in this focus to distract herself, to reach for that feeling of victory in the mire of despair. Su looked forlorn, lost, staring at the doors to the Malfoy Ward like it'll be the last thing she would see. Neville looked resigned, and I remembered with a jolt that his insane parents were up on the flaming upper floor. The others, witches and wizards that I didn't recognise, despite some wearing Healer robes, looked just as shattered by everything that happened. Though, there was Archie Forscythe, hunched over with his head against a wall and vomiting small fireballs onto the ground.

A spark of an idea suddenly hit me.

There was a chance we could get out of here after all.

I walked over to the wall and tapped my wand against it, feeling a thrum of energy vibrate through my hand. The wards; the various spells weaved into a protective field. The lockdown wards were built into the hospital. They would've had to have been, in order for them to be activated so quickly. Anti-Apparation, Anti-Portkey, anti-everything else, an enchantment around the hospital to keep the air contained and recycled while making sure airborne diseases couldn't leave. The walls, the doors, the windows, all locked and reinforced. It'd take something big to punch a hole through, something that would require room to move and time to operate, and the walking dead might have trouble allowing for that...

_St Mungo's is lost, _I told myself. _But the day isn't, and I'm not dead yet. Neither's Sarah, or Neville, or Su. We can still get out of here._

Hunt's final advice echoed through my mind.

_"Save all that you can. And damn it, survive."_

"We need to get out of here, and now," I declared to the group. "I'm not talking about this hallway, or this floor. I'm talking about the entire hospital. It's gone, it's lost, and trying to save it will just end in more death." I noticed that, amongst the group Neville brought back, the sobbing woman from earlier was gone. One more person lost in the battles on the first floor. One more person missing that shouldn't be. "The best bet we have is to take advantage of this fire. It's burning the hospital, and the lockdown wards are set into the walls themselves. If they get disrupted by the flames, maybe not destroyed, but disrupted, even for a moment, we can make a hole. A physical, actual, hole, in the side of the building. It'll be big enough for us to get out, and we _will_ get out."

Sarah was the first with concerns. "Hunt said we have to stay locked down, for our own safety."

"Hunt died, Sarah, and the fact is, he can't have seen this coming. It was a good idea at the time, but it only takes one of those zombies to turn a good idea into a burning hospital."

"But what about all the other people?" she asked. "We can't just abandon them."

"I've got no intention of doing that. Hunt also told us to save as many as we can, remember, and that's what I'm going to do." Then it hit me, and I turned to Neville. "Neville, mate -"

"it's okay, Harry," he said quietly. "My parents... It's okay."

"I can't imagine what this will be like to you, but..."

"Then don't presume anything," he said simply. "I'm with you, Harry. If my parents don't make it..."

I almost said something generic, like, "They'd want you to survive first and foremost," but his comment about presumption threw me off that. I instead turned to Sarah and asked her, "Are you okay with this? Sarah?"

My heart began to beat as she thought it over, looking from one shattered soul in the group to the next. Her gaze moved back to the Malfoy Ward, the place where we worked, laughed, lived, and fell in love. Hunt, Lance, Carrie, all dead. Rackharrow, nowhere to be seen. Me, her, and Su were all that's left.

Then she nodded, and I sighed in relief.

"I'll make an announcement, and we'll usher people into the lifts. Then we get down to the ground floor, find a spot and blast a hole."

"Why the ground floor?" Archie asked.

"Because I don't fancy jumping out of an upper floor to get outside."

"But how are we going to blast a hole?" Neville asked. "I saw some of the spells people were throwing back there, and they would've destroyed the walls on a good day. But they're barely fazing it now."

"The lockdown reinforces the walls," said Su. "But Harry has an idea to get around that."

I nodded. "I'm talking about the fiercest magic in the world, powerful, wild, unchecked curse magic, the kind that can punch through the reinforcement wards and make our hole. I'm about a great and terrible little flame spell. _Fiendfyre_."

"There's no way," said one of the other Healers. "Nobody can control Fiendfyre, not even Harry Potter. You'll kill us all."

"You're right, about the no control thing. Fiendfyre is dangerous precisely because of that, but we'll need it to get out in time, before the rest of the hospital falls on us. The wards will be disrupted by the activity, and that'll give us the opportunity without, you know, dying." I held up a hand to forestall any more argument. "And besides, I have a way to control it."

"How?" asked Neville.

"I just do. Now, here's the rest of the plan, and all of you need to do exactly what I say..."

..::..-.-..::..

Minutes later, I found myself in a lift with Auror Lobell. The older man looked only a little worse for wear than before, and although his wound was healed over, he still lost a good deal of blood and Sarah didn't have any potions on hand to deal with that or the pain of his internal organs. For this part of the plan to work, I needed somebody else to help, and I wanted Lobell close by for obvious reasons. Giving him his wand back probably wouldn't be considered the smartest move, but I had to.

"You can't make me do this," he protested, slumped against the wall and pointing his wand at the floor. My own wand was pointed at his chest.

"Oh, I know," I said lightly, my left hand trailing the buttons on the lift, but not pressing them. We were locked in for now. "I also know that if you manage to get out of here intact, you'll work hard on making our lives a living hell. But, in that regard, I have friends in higher places than yours, and your career's done, mate. Killing Carrie like that won't net you anything less than that and maybe some Azkaban time."

"You should just kill me then, get it out of the way."

"The thought had occurred to me," I said with venom. "You ever hear about Luna Lovegood? She and her father were burned to death inside their own home by some of the former Death Eaters running around after Voldemort bit the dust. Luna was my friend, and Ron's friend, and Neville's friend. We all grieved, but it was me who wanted more than that, so I took a few days to investigate, to use Auror resources to my advantage. I made a list of those who could've possibly been responsible for her death, narrowed that list down and then found the men who killed her. I returned the favour, Lobell, and I while I didn't relish in it, I still did it, because it had to happen. Now, I got away with it when I told the Ministry that it was an Auror-sanctioned move."

"You're no longer an Auror," Lobell spat. "You can't do the same to _me_ and get away with it."

"But I am a Healer," I reminded him. "If you were to suffer a heart attack of some kind, or succumb to your internal injuries sustained earlier while you were valiantly defending people from a zombie attack, I would be the one who'd have the chance to heal you. And if you were to die, that would be... _Unfortunate_."

He said nothing, and his wand hand twitched.

"But right now, I need you. And if you decide to point your wand at me in what's coming next, I will end you, and it will be more than unfortunate. You know why? Because I would've lost an extra wand to help me fight the undead. Not a man, an Auror, or a father as you claimed to be, but just a wand. A small, petty, wand." I hit the fifth floor button with my finger. "Now if you'll excuse me, it's time we got moving."

The lift began to move up then, and when it stopped I held the button to keep the door closed, using my wand to do the amplification spell, but hospital wide. My voice echoed inside of the lift, and I only could hope that it got through to the rest of St Mungo's. "My name is Harry Potter," I said, "I am here with an Auror from the Ministry of Magic, whose own assessment on the situation matches my own. The disease that's causing this must be contained, and St Mungo's is the place to contain it. The lockdown we have in place will keep The Stigma contained -" Lobell scoffed at that, quietly and to himself like an inside joke, but I ignored that. "- but we cannot be here to become its next victims. The walking dead are on all the floors now, and fire is spreading on half of them. I know it sounds hopeless, but dammit, we still have to try. I have a way out, but it's on the ground floor. Right now I'm in a lift, and we just arrived on the fifth floor. I'm going to open the doors and leave them open for two minutes. All those that wish to come, may, and those who hesitate will die. We'll have a path cleared to the lifts, but a lot of the work will have to be yours. The risk is great, but staying where you are will only lead to more pain and death. After we're done with the fifth floor, we'll go down to the fourth, wait two minutes with the doors open, and so on, until we all arrive at the ground floor." Where Sarah, Neville, Su, and the others would've cleared out for us, them having taken the stairs before they'd collapse into themselves. "To all those who're listening, you don't have much time to act. Go. Now."

I released my hold of the button, the lift let out a _DING_, and the doors began to open.

"How many people do these lifts hold again?" Lobell asked.

I didn't want to answer that one.

The hallway the doors opened to, the fifth floor, was filled with dark smoke. I tipped my head to Lobell and out the doors, and he pushed himself off the wall, glared at me, and walked out of the lift. I followed after a moment, keeping one eye on his wand hand: it was shaking a little like he wanted the wand pointed at something else, and three guesses on what, or who, he wanted to curse. We left the lift and stood in the hallway for a moment. The hallway here was a single corridor running horizontally in front of the lift, and the landing to the staircases was just before us. No zombies to the front, but blood splatters to the left and more smoke to the right. It didn't look that good, and I started a mental countdown. Two minutes, starting now.

And we waited. We kept the smoke at bay by magically pushing it out towards the stairs, and just kept our ears and eyes open for anything else. Once or twice, I heard screams from the left side of the floor, but I kept myself from running towards them. I had to be down on the fourth floor within the next minute, and repeat this process again. I just hoped they actually heard my announcement...

Lobell cried out as a figure appeared out of the smoke to the right side of the hallway. The figure had an awkward gait, its hands were held out in front of itself, and with one droning groan, I knew it was a walker.

One minute to go. I wheeled my aim towards the figure, put the incantation of the Piercing Curse at the front of my mind... And when it walked out, I saw that it was a Healer wizard with a bloody hole where his eye should've been. I took that in for less than a second, and it was a corpse again a second afterwards.

Beside me, Lobell began to twitch, while I murmured to myself, "Come on, come on. Save yourselves, come on..."

Nothing else came out of the smoke. I realised right then that the walker had come from the hall leading to the tearoom, which would've held a whole bunch of people, more than the Prickley Ward. And with the smoke would've been a fire, and...

The two minutes were up, and I gestured to Lobell to step into the lift, a little threatening look keeping him from ending up in a position to curse me in the back. My own steps were hesitant, and although my mind told me, over and over, to just let it go and travel to the fourth floor, my instincts wanted me to explore, or to wait an extra minute...

My mind won out, and the lift dinged again as I hit the fourth floor button.

"So much for that plan," Lobell said darkly.

When the doors opened again, and the lift let out its harmonious _DING_, we saw that fourth floor was very much on fire.

Remember what I said about flaming zombies? Well, I found one in the fourth floor hallway. The fourth floor's lift opened up to a small atrium-like area, a square block with three hallways leading off of it: one to the stairs, straight ahead, one to the long-term patient wards, to the right, and one to the normal patient wards, sitting on the left. The hallway to the left was the one the least on fire, and there were two zombies, one whose whole body was on fire, and another whose robes just were, and when they spotted the two of us, they started shuffling our way.

Lobell dropped one, and my first shot went wide from the other because I'd been aiming for the same. We both took care of the second one, both corpses crumpled next to each other, their little fire dancing between them like a miniscule, and very strange, bonfire.

We heard a voice call out, "Oh thank Merlin! Somebody got them! I think it's Harry Potter!" A man came around the corner, oddly enough wearing a shirt and jeans, both covered with liberal amounts of blood. His wand was out, made of a worn wood with the tip looking more than a little burnt. "Thanks, mate," he said to me, gesturing behind him. "I've got six with me. And I think that's all... The fire, you know, and those things."

"It's okay now," I told him. "We're finding a way out. What I need you to do is just put everyone in the lift. We've still got more than a minute here, so..."

The man nodded hurriedly, and the group trailing, two women, another man and three scared children, bolted past me and Lobell and piled into the lift. The T-shirt man stood in the middle the two of us, keeping his wand raised and pointed at all ways.

Then the undead came.

"I was afraid of that," said the man, taking aim at the zombie skirting around the corner. "When we heard your announcement, we just ran for it, and it must've got their attention."

"Are all they in?" I asked him, though I was secretly glad the amplification spell had actually worked.

"Yeah."

"Good, because we're moving back!" Lobell's spellfire going down the other end of the hall just told me there were more approaching. Two minutes hadn't passed, but with the choking flames and the approaching undead, there was no quarter for it. "Go, go, go!"

Lobell, the man, and myself moved back, pushing into those crowded inside, and I smashed the button just as an undead woman stumbled into view. The doors were still closing when I took off her head with a spell, and it rolled forward into the lift and bumped into my feet. The lift went _DING, _but it was drowned out by the little girl in the lift screaming at the sight of the head. The head that was still active, with teeth biting towards my shoes until Lobell obliterated it.

"Next up, third floor," I murmured as the girl got shushed by who I guessed was her mother. "Hey," I said to the T-shirt man. "Are you cool to help me and Auror Grumpy watch the halls when we get out next?"

"Yeah," he grunted.

"Good."

The lift dinged, and the doors scrolled open. A pair of hands immediately appeared and grabbed the T-shirt man, and a set of bloody teeth soon found themselves tearing a hole in his cheek. The occupants of the lift screamed and shrieked along with the man, and Lobell and I rushed forward, out of the lift and into a zombie convention.

The third floor was laid out like the fourth, three hallways and all, but this floor was fuller than the others, though less smoke-filled, because, you know, there has to be at least one good thing to be overshadowed by all the horrible. The zombies were pouring out of the halls and into the square reception area. After I dispatched the one eating the T-shit man, there were another three to replace it. Lobell and I both found ourselves surrounded on all sides, and from the corpses on the ground and the very recent-looking bloodstains, it wasn't hard to imagine what had happened: a group here, locked in one of their wards, heard my announcement, and left their wards immediately instead of timing it with what I'd said. The undead were waiting for them here, and, well, in the few minutes I was up on the fifth and the fourth floors, the third floor reception area had become a free-for-all, people free of fire-damaged areas running to their deaths, coming back up as walking corpses soon after.

Then, to rub salt in the wound and make my heart beat all the quicker, the doors of the lift closed behind us, the chirpy _DING_ made its presence felt once more, and Lobell and I were left alone in the reception area.

"Oh. Fuck. Me," said Lobell.

One of the others had obviously panicked, hit the button, and taken the lift with them. I agreed with Lobell in this case.

"The stairs!" I yelled.

"The twelve walkers!" Lobell yelled back, gesturing to the hallway to the stairs holding, sure enough, twelve zombies. Oh _fun_.

There was no clean way to do this. Corpses coming from the left, corpses coming from the right. I didn't have to be worried about Lobell cursing me, not right now, so when I saw the opportunity, how the undead were tripping over themselves in the hallway, I took the chance, and bulled forward. A trail of spells, blinding red lights mixing with purple and brown, with sounds and smells and tingling sensations down my spine, rolled out of my wand, one after another. In close quarters like these, there were no outright misses. Every spell hit something fleshy and filled with blood. A scythe of silver energy decapitated three of them at once, headless corpses spurting blood at the roof weakly before falling down. Limbs flew through the air, juggling with various viscera and bursts of blood, a symphony of nothing but disgusting fleshy noises playing over the moans and groans of the walking dead.

Lobell screamed a scream of pure agony from behind me.

I didn't turn. I didn't look.

My path was ahead of me; the staircase was within reach behind those last four zombies who hadn't gotten destroyed by the spellfire.

I thought of Carrie, and left Auror Lobell to his fate.

When I got through the gauntlet of body parts, unhurt but nauseous, I found the staircases unfortunately collapsed. Fire damage had claimed them from the top down, the hospital slowly but surely succumbing to its wounds. The stairs went down half a landing off this floor before trailing into nothing, the stairs below it to the second missing and the stairs all above charred or smashed into the bottom of the stairwell. I cursed at myself, but didn't consider going back to the lift and calling it up. Not with the zombies there, or with Lobell...

I destroyed the rest of the stairs in front of me with a few well-placed spells, the exhaustion really starting to kick in now. But I had to get to Sarah before passing out. A mantra in my mind to keep me going: get to Sarah, get to Neville and Su, cast the Fiendfyre, get the fuck out of here.

With the way clear, I could look down and plot out a jump from this landing to the second floor's.

Despite the spell I used, I landed on the second floor landing awkwardly, and my knee was throbbing with pain as I stood. The second floor hallway did not look any more scacthed than it did earlier, thankfully, and was very zombie free. The moment of peace was very appreciated, and I limped to the lifts at the end of the hall.

"Archie!" I called out as I got close. "Archie, show yourself!"

A bald head popped up from behind a reception desk next to the lifts. "Blimey," said Archie Forscythe. "Why didn't you take the lifts?"

"Stairs suited me better in this case."

"You look like 'ell."

"Feel like it." I smacked the call button for the lifts, and heard a very familiar _DING_ again.

"Got none with you?" Archie asked, leaving his hiding spot and coming over to me. "Where's the Auror bloke?"

"He didn't make it," I said shortly. The lift doors opened, and we stepped inside. It was the same lift from earlier, complete with the obliterated head from that zombie on the fourth floor, but it was empty of anything else when we got in. I was too numb to even think about what had happened to the kids we saved. "We're skipping the first floor," I informed Archie, hitting the button to the ground floor, where the others would be waiting. "Prepare yourself."

"I still think you don't need me."

"You still vomiting dragon flame or whatever it is?"

"Yeah."

"Then I need you."

See, thing was, Fiendfyre was a very uncontrollable flame to wield. All I'd need to punch my hole would be a single spark, but to direct it where I wanted it to go, I needed somebody to direct it for me. Archie had picked up something that made him burp up flame. After a bit of prodding, I learned that he could do it on command, and if I conjured my spark of Fiendfyre, he'd let loose a torrent of flame, catch the spark, and direct it to make our hole. It was a long shot, but it was probably the safer option than to let me try and cast and control it. For one thing, I'd never actually used it before; I knew the theory from Auror training, but that was all. So yeah, safety first.

Archie's part in the plan was to stay put on the second floor, which we knew was probably the emptiest (Malfoy Ward aside), and he'd be safest there. Lobell and I and anyone we picked up were going to grab Archie on the second floor via the lifts, then he'd be close by and able to be of use on the ground floor. Neville and Sarah's part of the plan involved them finding a spot for us to work from, collecting any survivors they met there. Right now, hopefully, they'd be waiting for us by the lifts, having plenty of time to run circles around the zombies, trap them somewhere, and fall back to wait for me. I didn't want to believe they'd be dead too. Especially like this, especially with... _Sarah_. Never Sarah.

The ring was still in my pocket. She wasn't there for me to give it to her, and for a second, I wished she was. One question, one answer, and then we'd get out of here.

I can still dream.

The lift's last _DING _was mournful, sad, a warbling sound. It knew that I'd never hear it again, and it would soon perish with the rest of the hospital. I put that out of mind as we walked out onto the ground floor.

The entrance to St Mungo's was just off to a hallway on the right, with that old reception area/emergency room right by the doors. The lockdown had probably turned those doors, enchanted like Platform Nine and Three-Quarters to be walked through, into deathtraps, because the hospital wasn't going to let anybody out easily. We'd have to cross back through there to get to the hallways: the target we'd picked was an office up against the side of the building, and it would deposit us out onto an alleyway.

That the area around the lifts were empty of people or walking dead made me feel antsy, and that feeling only intensified when I heard a scream coming from the reception area. I rushed there immediately despite my leg, and arrived in the midst of another battle.

Sarah, Neville, Su and a few others were smack dab in the middle of a zombie fight, the undead pouring from the hallway we intended to go down. I watched as Neville blew up heads, Su blew up eyes, and Sarah levitated rickety chairs from off to the side of the reception desk and smashed them into zombies. The scream I heard was coming from a bearded man who had lost his wand in the fight; I saw it sticking out of a zombie's mouth. The bearded man got bitten once, twice, three times, before finally becoming silent. His killers didn't last long, especially when I entered the picture. My eyes and throat were stinging from the smoke up on the upper floors, my clothes were drenched in blood, my knee was hurting, my head was pounding, my stomach was heavy with nausea but unwilling to vomit up anything simply because I hadn't eaten at all, but I kept fighting anyway.

"Harry!" Sarah cried once the last zombie dropped down; my appearance had helped things along nicely. She threw herself at me, and I took her gratefully. The ring in my pocket... stayed where it was. "Where are the others?" she asked, looking back from me and Archie.

I shook my head in reply. I counted the small group she had with her. "Where are your others?"

Her head matched mine in shaking left to right.

"We led the undead around like you told us to," said Neville, wiping sweat off his forehead and leaving a smear of blood from the back of his bloodstained sleeve. "Most of them are trapped in one of the other wards, but a few are still out there."

"And this lot?" I asked, kicking a corpse.

Su winced. "We had to check all the wards, and one of them didn't have windows. These ones got out of where they were locked up."

"Well that's not a -"

_CRASH_. The roof trembled violently with the sound, dust and chips of plaster raining down and onto us. St Mungo's as a whole grunted and groaned at once, and the crystal lights turned from red to black momentarily, plunging the room in darkness and taking it back out, flickering and flashing.

"What the hell was that?" Neville demanded.

"The hospital collapsing in on itself, if I had to guess," I replied. "The upper floors are lost, mate. Sorry." And with those floors went Frank and Alice Longbottom, which Neville took stoically. Good thing, because we had bigger things to focus on. "The lockdown wards are being disrupted. We have to go, now. Lead the way."

Down one hallway, turn a corner, down another. I'd seen enough of St Mungo's hallways to last me a lifetime even before I visited every single one the hospital held today. Some of the doors, to offices and wards and potion cabinets, were open, some were locked shut. There was blood here, bones there, internal organs everywhere else. Scorch marks greeted us in one hallway, but there was no fire to go with it.

"We're close, all of you," I said as we turned to the last hallway, where our destination was. "When we get out of here, don't hold today against any future St Mungo's hospitals that get built."

Only one of the group chuckled weakly at that.

"Okay, so we need to get into this office and hunker down. Archie and I will do most of the work, and if you just stay back, we'll be just -" The undead appearing in the hallway, just in front of the office we were going to, kinda put a damper on that. I pointed at the nearest office. "We go there instead! Come on!"

In our rush to get to the office, Su tripped over and took two others down with her. Sarah and I went back for them, of course, picking them up roughly and half-carrying them. My heart pounded and the noises of the approaching undead made it pound all the harder; this man I was trying to lift up was heavy, and that only added to my desperation. By the time we were back up and running toward the office, the undead were closer to there than we were. The roof trembled and creaked under the strain of the fire-damaged upper levels, and the whole hallway shook. When I could, I foisted off the man I was carrying to Sarah and whipped out my wand, firing curse after curse into the horde, which from the looks of things, was as big if not bigger than the group on the third floor, but only coming from the one direction. They were walking and stumbling over each other, a chorus of groans and moans echoing in sync with the flickering lights clustered below the roof. We made it to the office first, thanks to me setting up some blocks for the undead, but they were still coming, and coming as fast as they could, pale and bloody and walking nightmares still yet to come.

"Lay some kind of traps! Don't let them get any closer!" I shouted at Sarah and Su, before bolting into the office where Archie and the others were. Neville nodded at me and went out as I went in, and I pushed myself to the far wall. "Archie!" I snapped. "Get ready!"

He nodded, getting down on his knees and facing the wall. "Please don't burn me," he croaked.

"I'll try," I replied, casting my gaze back to the doorway. Sarah, Neville and Su were still firing spells, but by the looks of things they were about to drop in sheer exhaustion, and I knew I wasn't much better.

But dammit, I still had to cast my most complex bit of magic today, a spell that, even in the form of a tiny spark like I needed, was dark and powerful, uncontrollable and wild. My Healer work with Hunt had given me more than a little practice in concentration with subtle magics, but right now, at the end of my rope with my bones aching in weariness and an pit of dread truly settled into my stomach... I was scared. For a single moment, the first moment today, I was truly scared. For what the others had gone through in their deaths - Hunt, Carrie, Lance, even Lobell - and for what pain Sarah or Neville or Su or Archie would go through. Fear, just fear, and nothing else.

And, with nothing else to draw upon, I used that fear.

Power flowed through my veins, adrenaline accelerated my heartbeat, and my wand trilled a note from a phoenix's song. The air in the office grew hot, the lights flickered again, and every part of my body was poured into creating a spark of pure accursed fire. It leaked out of the tip of my wand as a vapour at first, a smoky trail for an invisible flame. The smoke was dark red, like the colour of blood, which I'd seen _so much_ of today, and it coalesced and formed into a small ball in the palm of my hands, before... It just _poofed _out of existence.

In its place arose a brilliant flare, burning so bright I shut my eyes for a moment and when I opened them, it wasn't a spark dancing in the air but a ball of flame, tendrils of fire like wispy arms reaching out and licking the air around it.

"Now," I said quietly to Archie, my voice the only thing I could hear right then.

Archie reared his head back, poked his wand at the back of his throat, let out a great heaving sigh, and orange flame crashed out of his mouth in a stream. Any other day and that would've rendered the entirety of the back of his mouth to cinders, but earlier I had cast a spell that applied a cooling gel to the area in order to protect against this sort of thing, though for Healing purposes it was used for ingesting potions. The flame from Archie's mouth caught the Fiendfyre ball, and for a second I could see the ball without the torrent, blazing orange, red, yellow and white. Archie's flame pushed forward, out of his mouth, absorbed the Fiendfyre, and smashed into the wall.

At first, it worked perfectly. A charred circle roughly the size of the portrait entrance to the Gryffindor Common Room was measured out on the white wall. The wall was heated hotter and hotter by the flames and the hole appeared, chips of paint melting down to bare plaster and wood and whatever else was beneath the walls. It was after the hole began to dig in the side of the building that the problems began. The tendrils of the Fiendfyre that had been absorbed into the flame burst loose from the stream like lightning, crackling at the office's desk, the walls, at the roof, and out into the hallway.

One spark was all it took. Because of the nature of the flame, I felt the Fiendfyre, like I could literally see from its perspective, catch on everything it could.

The hospital was aflame earlier, but it was downright burning down at every fundamental level now. The curse flame smashed against the lockdown wards right away, and the flickering from earlier stopped, the red lights finally extinguished. I tapped my wand against the nearest wall, pulling away in time to avoid it getting lit on fire, and felt the thrum of the wards: the anti-apparation and all that were still up, but they wouldn't go down until the entire place was ash. Since I had no intention of burning with my place of work, the hole was our best bet. I looked to see Archie's progress: the hole was coming along nicely, though Archie himself looked about ready to pass out.

"Harry!" Neville screamed from the hallway. "They're getting closer, we have to -"

"Go!" I shouted back, before even looking that way. When I did, Neville and Su were already inside the office, and then my gaze went to Sarah...

She screamed. One of the Fiendfyre flames leapt out from the wall and caught on her left sleeve, she aimed her wand towards it, and there was a shape approaching from behind her -

Teeth, flashing red, working with bloody hands, the hands grabbing, the teeth moving in to sink...

It was Vivian Waters, our first patient. Dark haired, young, now no more than a twisted monster, an undead menace with her entire muzzle covered in blood, soaking into her skin and dripping off the bottom of her chin as her mouth lowered in slow-motion to Sarah's neck.

"Vivian!" I called, aiming my wand and loosing a spell. Vivian's dull-eyed gaze turned to the tip of my wand, as if she recognised what was coming. "Sorry!"

A black bolt of light whipped through the air. Sarah shrieked as it grazed across her cheek and sliced it open, and strands of her hair flew off and landed on her still-alight left sleeve. The spell whooshed past my girlfriend and struck Vivian between the eyes, and the monster, once a girl the same age as Sarah's sister, a monster that killed Hunt, a countless amount of other innocents, and almost got Sarah... Vivian wasn't the monster; she was dead, and the walking corpse, the walking Dementor's Stigma, was the monster. The first to be revived died for good with no expression on her face, or any face to speak off. Sarah loosed herself from Vivian's grip when it went slack, and the zombie's corpse fell back into the crowd cramming into the office door.

I grabbed Sarah with one hand, twirled my wand with another, and the door to the office slammed shut.

Neville and Su rushed to reinforce the doors with as many spells as they could cast, while I worked on Sarah. I put out the flame, held her tight in my arms and murmured into her ear for her to calm down, that I was here, and that we were nearly out of there.

Archie's jet of flame stopped, and I knew the hole was done when a rush of chilly afternoon air filled the room. I turned to look at it: it was, well, hole-shaped, with scorch marks covering the wall around it, and bits of rubble both here and on the outside. Those cowering behind the desk left their hiding spot with sounds of relief, and made to jump out of the hole immediately. Good thing too, because the roof trembled and shook once more, and one side of the office was a raging inferno, including the door barricading the undead from their meals. They pounded against it uselessly, but the sound was cut off by a warbling echo coming out of the walls itself.

My blood went cold. "You have to help us!" a familiar voice cried, amplified by that spell, a feedback and an echo rumbling through the office and into my ears. The voice I'd heard on another announcement, earlier. "Help us!" Mediwitch Moser cried. "There are twenty of us, locked in a ward on the first floor. We've been under attack by the undead, and the doors aren't holding! And there's a fire. Please, we heard you earlier, Harry Potter. You didn't come to save us! And there's a fire! It's creeping in, and we need -" She was cut off by the roof shaking again, both here and wherever she was; the noise was amplified in the compact space, and the roof shook even more in reply to its own shaking. _"Help us!"_

Neville, Su and Archie all looked at me. The others had already piled through the hole, and I could see the alleyway outside, a dank and old narrow area lit up by the hospital's flames burning in the dusk.

"_Please_," Moser's voice begged.

And I made a decision then. It was far too late, and all of us were thinking it, but somebody had to say it. Somebody who made the decisions before, somebody who knew when to cut their losses and let more people die. "We go," I said, my voice quiet but firm. "Now."

Sarah leaned back, away from me but still in my arms. "Harry -"

"Now!" I snapped at the others. Archie, rubbing at his throat with a cross look on his face, went first, and Neville went after. Su took one last look around at St Mungo's, no doubt thinking that as far as last views went, some dingy little office half on fire was not how she wanted to remember the hospital. But she went too, and I kept a firm hold of Sarah, took my own last look at the room, looking up to the roof and mentally telling Moser and her group that there was nothing I could do.

We were halfway out the hole, feeling the tingle of the wards wash over us as we did, when Sarah pulled away from me. It was an awkward motion, especially crouched over like we were, but she didn't appear to mind falling on the concrete. When we both stood, she circled around and gazed at the hole back into the hospital, then back to me. Her cheek was cut and trailing blood like bitter tears down the side of her face, her left arm was covered in a raw red burn, and her eyes were filled to the brim with that expression I couldn't identify earlier, when she saw me kill the first zombie. All that happened after, she had become acclimated, because she was in a battle, and survival came first. She'd seen and done some terrible things inside that hospital, going against everything she believed in; heal people, not destroy them.

A part of her no doubt told her that the undead couldn't be saved in the way she wanted, not right now. But people could be saved, and people _should_ be saved, and if Sarah was horrified by me dispatching one zombie with no quarter, it didn't even compare to the horror she would feel after seeing me willingly sacrifice more than twenty people to fire and ash, to smoke and burning pain. To death, and nothing else.

_St Mungo's was lost_, I tried to tell her with my eyes. _We would've died if we went back for those people. Survive, Hunt told us. _Survive_. We saved as many as we could, don't you see that? Don't you understand that? You understood so much before when we'd talk about everything about the war, so why can't you understand that I went back to that place today? I'm not proud, I'm not happy, but dammit, I want you to not look at me like you've never been more scared in your life._

I barely registered that the zombies broke through the barricade in the office back in the burning hospital. I barely registered that one of the others in the group screamed at something. I just looked at Sarah, and nothing else.

I said her name, softly and imploringly. "Sarah..."

"Harry," she replied, in a trembling tone of voice that broke my heart.

"There's more of them!" a man cried, and Neville echoed him immediately after. To my left, I saw the undead coming into the alley, slowly but surely. They weren't dressed in robes and the usual trappings of wizards. These zombies were wearing suits and ties, dresses, shirts and jeans; Muggle clothing. _Muggles_. They were Muggles.

It all made sudden, great and terrible, sense.

_- recent riots in the Muggle world. Wizarding news was always more important than Muggle news -_

_"I'm getting some milk from the shop by the flat, right, and this drugged-out shopkeep up and bites me on the bloody hand! _Muggles_, right, I don't even -"_

_"A wound like mine is resistant to magic. Curse wound. Passed on through bite."_

_"You still haven't got that hand looked at?"_

_"That bloke from before, 'e just started goin' bonkers. Died. A minute later, got up." _

_"Work's gotten a little hectic lately. A few people have gone missing. Some of the senior Aurors, like Lobell, are trying to do something."_

_"The Stigma is the source of all of this. How many people have died already? I came here today to assess it."_

_- disease was connected to the Dementors' breeding season, possibly spread though the mist -_

_"Potter, you don't know the half of it."_

The Stigma had affected the Muggles. Somehow, without us noticing, without the news getting out, it had hit them. The same way it hit us, or maybe... I don't know. I don't know. I don't know.

_"I didn't want to do that," _Lobell had said._ "But it had to be done. For the good of us all... You'll understand. You'll see._"

I saw.

One of the wizards walked right into his death, two of the zombies descending on him and taking chunks out both sides of his neck. He screamed and shrieked until he died.

Another witch couldn't get off the right spell in time, and her wand was batted out of her hand by the weight of an obese zombie spilling his intensities out onto the alleyway.

Su and Neville began shooting spells, over and over, but the events inside the hospital had turned them into flat batteries, flickering to near unconsciousness.

Then I saw Sarah.

I heard her scream again, but this wasn't like before. This was a pure, sheer blood-curdling scream, the kind that turned my bones to ice water and would not stop pounding in my brain, over and over until it was the only thing I'd ever remember about her. The _scream_. The smell of fire and ash, and smoke, and blood, and even her scream had a smell, coppery and like death one moment with fleeting scents that I knew were hers that I couldn't remember if I tried.

Two of the zombies had come out of the hole from the office, one grabbing her with its one arm, the other immediately piercing the skin of her neck with crooked, bloodstained, teeth. Sarah kicked and pushed and screamed until she was up against the side of the building, and the fire caught her again and made her scream all the more, burning at her legs, her hair and the two dead men eating her alive.

She died right when I thought I couldn't stand to hear her scream any longer, her eyes shining with life one moment and extinguished with death the next.

A neat hole had drilled itself into her forehead, perfectly circular, the shape of the ring in my pocket. Blood spurted out from the back of her head and into the eye of the zombie biting her on the neck, but the undead thing didn't even flinch, didn't even stop eating her despite the fact she was dead, dead, _dead_, and the Piercing Curse through her forehead would stop her coming back, back, _back_.

My head moved as in slow motion, in time to see Neville Longbottom fire off two more spells to dispatch the zombies eating Sarah Fawcett's corpse.

I saw Neville, my friend Neville who just killed my girlfriend, stopped her pain and saved me from seeing her come back to life.

But I didn't have that rationality, not right then, not ever since.

I _reacted._

Neville was swept off his feet by the force of my spell colliding in his chest, not a spell I even knew, no, but a burst of pure, unrestrained magic, cutting and slicing and burning him all at once. He went immediately limp on the ground, his wand skittering across the alleyway, and I just stood there.

Su screamed at me, but the sound was muted, nothing but an echo unable to pierce through this haze of _nothing_. She rushed forward on her knees and pressed her wand tip against Neville's chest, murmuring and muttering incantations of spells, reverting to her basic Healer instincts even as all hell broke loose around us.

The others, those that weren't important, were being eaten by the oncoming horde. Only Archie and five others remained... No, Archie and four others... Now three...

Sarah Fawcett's corpse, half burnt in a pool of blood and flesh, didn't stir.

A stinging sensation slapped across my cheek, and sound returned. "Harry!" Su cried. "Harry, he's dying, and I need you to help! I can't do this alone, not like this! He's got internal injuries, and - Harry, fucking move!"

The only prevalent thought that hit me then was, _What have I done?_

I threw myself to the ground beside Neville's form, waved my wand over the raw red wound leaking blood over his chest and onto the alleyway floor, and put all I had left into the spell, the Healing. The saving. The light of my spell flashed in my eyes, leaving bright spots dancing in my vision.

I don't remember what happened next.

Things went dark, and it was almost blissful until Sarah's screams echoed in my mind as if they'd been amplified there. They didn't stop until I woke up.

..::..-.-..::..

"It was fuzzy, exactly what happened next," I said, more than one year after Sarah's death, one year after Hunt's and Carrie's and Lance's and even Lobell's. Back then, I thought I knew the stakes: The Stigma's got a deadly side effect, and I had to save as many as I could to get out of the lockdown. Now, the stakes had changed, and it wasn't about the now, it was about the future. Here on the roof of Abe's pub in Granford, the last Muggle bastion of life and hope left in the United Kingdom, sitting on a roof next to Ellie Ogden and watching the sun creep up over the horizon. What would come after this moment I wouldn't know, and although the events of the past kept me up nine nights out of ten, there was a sense of comfort in the past being _defined_. It's already happened, and it can't be changed. What comes next is what's important.

But Ellie wanted to hear everything, and I told her of the circumstances that kick-started a zombie apocalypse, and of the immediate aftermath.

"The Dementor's Stigma affected the Muggles too, and it started roughly half a week after we found out about Vivian Waters. It was an isolated incident at first; a man got sick with a sudden fever, had strange hallucinations and then just died in less than a day. Some zombies ensued. The incident was written off as an odd riot, you know the kinds of things people will say because they don't know: drugs, riots, whatever enemy in whatever war the Muggles were fighting at the time. I don't know. Regardless, it took a few incidents all over the world for the Ministry to be alerted, and Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Minister at the time, got these strange reports of the riots _not_ being riots, but outbreaks. A disease the Muggles didn't understand, but that we might. The connection to The Stigma didn't come until later. See, the Muggles can't see Dementors, and for some reason they couldn't see the black lesions that were the precursors to the fever and the hallucinations. The Muggles die quicker and reanimate quicker, though the latter has some inconsistency to it nobody's been eager to pin down yet."

"But once Minister Shacklebolt knew, he would've told some people," Ellie guessed.

"Robards was one."

She nodded. "And Lobell and his group heard after."

"Yeah. From what I understand, Kingsley and Robards were hesitant to act because of the Statute of Secrecy. Ironically, they were bringing it to the Wizengamot just before St Mungo's got locked down, but I imagine they would've faced the same problems we're facing now. It's not like Kingsley didn't want to act, it's just that he didn't think The Stigma was the same thing the Muggles were going through. In the two weeks he had, he had resources working towards figuring what the Muggles were being hit with."

"But Lobell and his people thought it might be The Stigma."

"Kingsley later told me they brought it before him, and he didn't quite dismiss it, but the whole situation was a clusterfuck. Robards pressuring Hunt because of his cousin, even before they heard the Muggle reports, did not make Hunt want to acquiesce, and going behind his back to Chairman Mungo was not the best move. Lobell volunteered for the job because he wanted to act in the best interests of wizarding kind, for the Ministry. Remember what I said when he first showed up? He wanted to see Vivian, because he wanted to see if she'd come back to life like the Muggle reports said their victims did. When the lockdown activated, he panicked."

"But he still killed Carrie," Ellie said acidly. "He didn't have to do that."

"If this last year's taught me anything, it's that maybe Lobell had the right idea, just not the best execution. I mean, look at what happened next."

"The Stigma swept through the world."

"It had already swept, but a lot more of the deaths were from the post-mortem infection - zombie bites - than the disease itself, which died out when the world did. The outbreak was like a chain reaction, one that was impossible to stop. The uncertainty, the fact that the government - both Muggle and magical - had no real clue how to contain it, and the fact cases popped up every time minor incursions were put to rest... That's how the world ended. In blood and pain. Maybe the wizarding governments could've helped, but they had their own incidents to deal with. One wizard gets bitten by a Muggle zombie, and he's a walking corpse soon after. That's what happened to the Ministry. A few wizards who live out in the Muggle world get bitten, show up to work and never leave. I heard that the first one died in the stairs, and since people rarely used them, nobody even came across the bugger until twelve hours before the St Mungo's lockdown. Little incidents like that soon put the Ministry into siege. All at once, while we were locked up, the Ministry fell, Diagon Alley got overrun, and the Muggle world was more than gone by this point."

The thought occurred, now that I had time to talk things out, of how Draco Malfoy could've played his role in the loss of the wizarding world. If he had an in with the Ministry, he'd know that Kingsley and the others were about to act in saving the Muggles, and he could've prevented that by introducing a zombie or two in key spots in the Ministry, getting his own people out to survive the purge in the process. It almost hurt to comprehend how much he could've influenced things to make the world as it is now.

A bit of steel entered my voice as I continued. "Hermione died when the Ministry fell, and Ron got out just in time to see half his family die when his brother Percy returned home and reanimated. The flames were dying down from the sparse undead encounters in Hogsmeade when we got out of St Mungo's. An unconscious me, a half-dead Neville, Su, Archie Forscythe and two others. The Ministry was gone, completely lost, an hour after we showed up, and the survivors converged on Hogwarts."

"I remember that day," said Ellie. "We saw the Hog's Head on fire from the castle, and there were all sorts of owls flying back and forth. I heard about the girl in the hospital wing, the same one you said you examined, being taken away by the Aurors... After class, we got the news." She shuddered. "They gathered us in the Great Hall, just before dinner, to tell us that in one day we lost the Ministry of Magic, St Mungo's, Diagon Alley, and barely avoided the same fate for Hogsmeade and there, in the castle. The worst part I remember was... Nobody knew exactly who died. In the confusion, we weren't sure if you were dead or if the Minister was dead, or... My grandfather and grandmother, my mother... A school full of scared children, and the Headmistress had no names for us. A few people found out right away from owls, but some of the others found out days, weeks, later, even after losing all hope, and some more of the kids probably still don't know, but assume the worst. Nobody slept that night."

By Merlin could I understand that. "I did nothing but, though it was less sleep and more unconsciousness brought on by pure exhaustion. When I came to, Su told me Neville had made it, that I'd been out for three days, and about everything else. How the Ministry rebuilt temporary lodgings on the lawns of Hogwarts, how the Muggles had been wiped out. Su didn't tell me, not until just a few days ago, but she went home after St Mungo's, and found her family all undead. She killed them, burned them, and went right back to assisting those erecting a new St Mungo's. Like nothing had happened. Su can be scary sometimes."

"I reckon," Ellie muttered. "What about the others? Archie, the other two, and Neville?"

"I learned later that the two others died; one had been bitten, and the other killed herself. Archie dropped back into whatever hole he crawled out of." And may he stay there, lest the purebloods use him to paint my character in a bad light. Archie had been there when I came back without Lobell, and when I left Moser and her people to die. If the agenda found out about him and used him against me, I wouldn't be shocked. I'd told Susan to check on him yesterday, but whether or not she came up with anything I'd find out later. "Neville made a full recovery, as you can see. He dropped out of being an Auror and worked more on coordinating in the rebuilding process, and joined the Wizengamot soon after. The rest of his family had been killed in the outbreak, so he had the opportunity to take the seat and he took it. See, he wanted to take it because -"

"No, I was wondering... Are you two still friends? I mean, do you blame him for Sarah and does he blame you for almost killing him?"

"We don't talk about it," I admitted. "It's like a measure of our friendship. He saw me at my worst and nearly died because of it, and I learned that he do whatever he thought was best in any situation. Like, I know that he killed Sarah like that to end her pain, to not make me watch her stand up again as a corpse, but every time I think about it, and of him killing her... I just don't think about it. He doesn't mention it. There's tension, here and there, over things, especially lately, but we're still on the same side. Just... not as close."

"I'm sorry. I can't imagine what that must be like..."

"To quote Neville, 'don't presume'. I've given you a very good picture of everything that happened, the whys and the hows, but the thing between me and Neville is just between us."

She nodded. "So Neville joined the Wizengamot...?"

"That sort of goes back to the Ministry, with Kingsley and Robards and Lobell. Lobell's sect - the four people Neville mentioned - didn't really flourish after the outbreak. Lobell and Dawlish, who was sent to Azkaban and got eaten for it when the Dementors broke out, died. Stark, who wasn't a schemer in any way, ran to Robards and has been loyal to him ever since, and Savage just turned bitter and hateful, joining up with Kingsley's scavenging team just so he could vent his frustrations." It got him killed too, over a fortnight ago. Before Liliford, in that supermarket with Davies the living zombie taking us all by surprise. "So yeah, it all went back to Kingsley right after the Ministry fell. He resigned not because he wanted to be out in the field and be an asset there, but because he felt guilty over his inaction. But, if you'd ask me, he remedied that with how he saved the Muggles. He defied all the purebloods and all the other wizards who thought of themselves first. When Liliford and Granford declared themselves, he wiped out the zombies blocking major roads, put Compelling Charms on the signs both towns erected to point the way, and began the system of dropping food and supplies to our drop boxes. Operatives were placed in the towns, some right away, some after. Kingsley did a damn lot of good in those first few weeks, and after he resigned and Robards took over, the new Minister's best act was to continue it." And he hadn't done much since, but that was another story.

"And Neville...?"

"He didn't know what was going on with the senior Ministry staff just before the lockdown, and he didn't want that again, not if I needed to know. He took the Wizengamot seat to keep abreast of issues, and told me about them, along with Bill, Susan and later Terry and Ernie. The idea for disclosure came up, and it only came up because of Kingsley's actions not being enough, because Robards wasn't putting in any more effort, and Neville's own action in joining the Wizengamot gave me the idea, which I brought to your grandfather. I jumped at the chance when I found out I could take my own seat, and all things just got luckier for me as time went on."

Ellie laughed. "And here we are. There's probably a whole bunch of conspiracy I'm missing, but I get that you might not want to talk into the day." She let out a big yawn. "Sun's coming up soon."

"Yeah... I had one more thing to say, though."

"Oh?"

"Yeah," I said again. "It's that if you take anything away from what I just told you, it's that you have to fight, to survive. I thought losing Sarah would completely destroy me, but I'm still here because there's something to fight for, and there's that survival thing to think about it. Granford's all that's left, and I won't let anything get in my way for that. Your grandfather was threatened because of this fight, and the stakes... Are very high. Higher than they have ever been."

The Wizengamot, Draco Malfoy, Granford, Astoria Greengrass, Ellie Ogden and her family, my friends, and most importantly of all, the ones who died before this point, and would die if I failed. Save as many as you can, Hunt had said. Survive. Don't let anybody end up like Sarah and the others.

Huh. This talk had been useful, in the end. I hadn't slept more than an hour's sleep tonight, but it didn't matter. Focusing on what I had to do and why was more than enough to push me into the coming day.

Ellie took a moment to consider what I said, maybe considering damn near everything I said. She looked more mature in the approaching dawn, and I marvelled at the fact just hours ago she'd been a frightened teenage girl. Now, she knew that her being here was a life-threatening situation because I had conveyed the seriousness of the war. So, when she spoke next, she said the words I wanted to hear. "I understand."

The best part was, I knew she understood. She'd understood a lot of things thanks to this talk, and not just understood, but _understood_.

And maybe because she _understood _I'd never see that horrified look on her face, the one that broke my heart when I saw it on Sarah's.

Then there was Astoria. She knew a lot, and had experienced enough to maybe, truly, _understand_, as well... She saw me use fire, to kill a zombie her husband had chained up in his study, one that was about to kill him. She saw me use fire for the first time since the lockdown, a torrent of pure flame shooting out of my wand and the power in my blood greeting me like an old friend, warmly embracing me... Astoria saw me use fire and didn't flinch away.

Maybe everything would turn out okay, at least with her.

And Ellie too, I hoped. Before all of this she seemed impossibly young despite only being three years younger. She was just a bright spark of life in the dreary hell, unknowing and oblivious in some cases, but at the same time remembering the hell of the Voldemort war and trying to push past that.

I felt bad I'd disheartened her spirits so much with the story, but, with the sun still creeping up slowly, there was still time for me to salvage the night and make good on a promise I made.

"Hey," I said, nudging her with my shoulder. Her head bounced off her spot, and the warmth from the Warming Charm bracelet around her wrist left me when skin no longer met skin. "You want to go down to the bar and learn something new? It could come in handy."

"Is it target practise? I know to aim for the head."

"Well that's harder than you think, and I'll cover that, but..." I stood, and offered her my hand. "Let's go learn the Patronus Charm."

Her eyes lit up at that.

..::..-.-..::..

It turned out that the depressing mood I set with my story was the closest we'd get to practising on an actual Dementor. Ellie got the hang of the casting right away, and had plenty of happy memories to fuel a small burst of white, formless, light. It wasn't much but it was very, very, early days, and the sombre mood she was feeling from hearing about the lockdown would cap her progress for a bit (But again, it was helpful for simulating an actual Dementor attack). I myself didn't do much casting; losing happy memories was bad enough in an actual Dementor situation, but since I feared I'd soon be running out... I didn't do much casting myself, no; couldn't risk it, wouldn't risk it.

We were in the middle of another practice session when Terry entered the pub through the front door, the morning sun briefly coming with him before the door closed again. "Morning," he said, not looking like he slept but no less chipper for it.

"Hey," I replied. "Where were you all night?"

He grinned. "Leeson pulled out of sentry duty because of his arm, and I volunteered."

I could figure why. "Juliet was on sentry all night, wasn't she."

"We're getting along now," Terry said happily. "We had a bit of a talk about her life, and my life, and joked and, well, I heard her laugh." He honestly sounded like he never thought such a thing was possible, and that made me amused. "Same duty in a couple of nights, so should be a blast. She's falling to my charm."

Ellie and I shared a bemused look, and I guffawed.

"So what were you two doing?" asked Terry.

"Practising the Patronus," Ellie replied. "Had a late night, so no use going back to sleep when the rest of the pub's going to wake up soon."

"Late night? Doing... what, exactly?"

We shared another look. "Long story," I replied. "So, you and Jules, huh? You better be careful, Terry -"

A loud _thump_ from the upper floor stopped me in my tracks, followed by another, and another. Terry's demeanour went serious instantly, and he drew his wand from his hidden holster. Mine and Ellie's, already out, were also raised in caution for a moment.

"Upstairs," I said, motioning. Both of them nodded and followed as I motioned. "Sounded like the fourth floor, maybe." Which made me very much alert; the Ogdens were up there.

The sound of breaking glass elevated me from alert to full-fledged panic.

We pounded up the steps, waking the entire inn in the process, and arrived in the hallway to the fourth floor rooms. The window at the end of the hall was broken, shards of glass sticking out here and there but most of it completely lost to the break.

The door at the far end of the hall, right next to the window, was ajar. That was Hart's room, I just knew it. My heart pounded as we walked forward, the story of the St Mungo's lockdown adding to my paranoia in expecting anything, anything at all, inside that room.

When we got in, the room was mostly unruffled by whatever commotion that had happened. It was only the bed that was out of place, with dark red blood soaking through the sheets and into the mattress. The bed was heavy under the weight of its bleeding corpse, of a man with dark hair and matching beard. His jaw was slack and his eyes were glassy, staring into nothing somewhere in the middle of the ceiling. He was bleeding out of a dozen wounds to his upper torso and neck, vicious tears and gashes in the skin that could've only been caused by a knife. The corpse wasn't the kind that would be standing up soon after; it was the regular, just plain dead, kind.

It was the corpse of Artemis Hart, Auror and member of the Wizengamot.

With one unexpected act, everything had changed. _Again_.

..::..-.-..::..

_To Be Continued in Chapter Twelve: Inconvenience..._

..::..-.-..::..

Post-Chapter Notes:

_- Next Chapter Tease ::_ An inconvenient death puts Harry on the backpedal in the lead up to the next Wizengamot meeting, and forces are seemingly moving in strange directions very fast. Zombies? Sure. In your head. In your heeeeaaaad. Zom-b-ies.

_- Wizengamot Scorecard ::_

- _Pro-Disclosure_ :: Harry, Neville, Susan, Boot, Brown, Patil, Diggory.

- _Anti-Disclosure_ :: Malfoy, Parkinson, Bulstrode, Selwyn, Gale, Burke.

- _Swing Votes_ :: MacMillan, Smith, Zabini, Cuffe.

- _Former Members ::_ Bill Weasley (Resigned), Isaac Aquilla (Dead), Hoster Harper (Dead), Artemis Hart (Dead).

- _Member Count ::_ Seventeen.

- _Status ::_ No longer evenstalled.

Thanks for reading!

..::..-.-..::..


	12. Chapter Twelve: Inconvenience

_Standard Disclaimer_ :: All things Harry Potter belong to JK Rowling and affiliates. This fanfiction is a non-profit venture written for the enjoyment of myself and my readers.

_Dedication :: _To Irene, Seratin, Lutris, Zeitgeist, Vira and my friends from DLP, for putting up with my insanity, for reading early drafts, and just being there. Also, to all those who reviewed/favourited/alerted me or my story here on FFnet, cheers. Props to DLP for the feedback, too - anyone reading this who hasn't devoured their C2 on this very site must do so now. It's the first community on the list, for a damn good reason, and I'm more than happy to have this story a part of it too.

_Preface :: _This chapter isn't one of my favourites, if I were being honest. The hazards of having too many storylines eventually catches up, and the placement of this one in between two of the most important chapters (Probably two out of the four most important chapters) makes it feel like an unfortunate blemish. Ehh, maybe I'm just overthinking it, but there's still some choice character interaction and intrigue to be had in between the politics and the like. So, onwards.

_Previously ::_ Darkness is building and building as the next Wizengamot meeting looms, with Harry and his allies pushed to new lengths in order to retaliate for The Burrows attack. On the heels of that, and the pureblood agenda's rebuttal of threatening Chief Warlock Ogden with a bit more force than usual, Harry was faced with a shocking revelation that Draco Malfoy is, in fact, behind all of the agenda's plans, a revelation that puts all past incidents into light for Harry, including the St Mungo's lockdown one year earlier. The lockdown, which was responsible for the deaths of his would-be fiancee Sarah and his mentor Hunt, ended in the hospital burning down, and a key witness seeing it all go down, including Harry's choice to abandon potential survivors, and the mysterious disappearance of a Ministry Auror. Harry reiterated this story to Ellie, and on the heels of that, came to a shocking discovery after a ruckus was heard upstairs in Abe's pub; Artemis Hart, Wizengamot member and one of Harry's allies, has been found dead...

..::..-.-..::..

_Chapter Twelve of Sixteen: Inconvenience_

..::..-.-..::..

"A wizard definitely did this," said Hit-Wizard Strauss, circling the bloodied bed like a hawk. He had been woken up less than five minutes ago, but looked no worse for the rude awakening or the fact he was investigating a dead body in his bedclothes. Ellie Ogden and myself hadn't slept, but for a few moments there I had felt wide awake and focused on what I had to deal with; namely, Malfoy, the Wizengamot, saving Granford, and avoiding a repeat of the St Mungo's lockdown. But now, throwing Atermis Hart's corpse into the scheme of things made me feel tired and weary again. The implications alone had made this into a great inconvenience, but the only thought running through my head was, _I brought him to this place. He was here less than a day. And he died for it._

"How can you tell?" Terry Boot asked the older man, leaning on the far wall and looking at Hart's corpse with as much nonchalance as he could muster. "Looks like he was stabbed."

"Then it was made to look like a Muggle did the deed," Strauss said. "But wizards are capable of using knives too, and I think the only reason Hart wasn't killed with a firearm was because of the noise it would produce."

Terry snorted. "Didn't do a very good job of keeping quiet, did he? We all heard the noise. The thumping, the window."

After the three of us, Strauss had been the first to arrive on the scene, due to his room being across the hall from Hart's. He had immediately assured the safeties of Gladys and Amaris Ogden before handing them off to Abe and Su, who had been the next two of our group to show up. Su was watching the ladies now, and Abe was off handling the Muggles who lived here on the other floors and who'd been woken up by the commotion, as well as fetching Neville and Ernie for me, the two of them probably not hearing anything in their sleep.

"So why the noise?" I asked.

"I'm getting to that," Strauss remarked, pacing the room again. "First, look at Hart's arms." He pointed. "They're slack against the side of his body, and his legs are the same. Stiff, even though rigor mortis hasn't set in yet. But this stiffness, like this, is strange. If you woke up in the middle of being stabbed, wouldn't you kick and fight?"

"Of course," I said instantly. "I fully intend to be up and cursing people if they show up in my bed for whatever reason."

Behind me, Ellie let out a small choking noise.

Oh right, I'd forgotten she was still there. She hadn't gone off with her mother and grandmother with Su, and I put her out of mind after Strauss started his assessment. Whatever small amusement she got out of my previous comment, in reference to what happened last night, was already melting off her face when I turned to her. Visible horror and anguish settled in as she looked at Hart's dead body, maybe the first she'd ever seen, come to think of it. She hadn't even known him for a full day, but that didn't matter.

"Maybe you should go be with your family now," I told her gently. "They'll be downstairs, with Su. Okay?"

She nodded, her gaze moving back from me to Hart's body as she did, before leaving.

When she left, I stepped closer and took a hard look at Hart's body, noting the rigid way he was laid out on the bed. It was a familiar pose, with his arms and legs snapped together as if tied there by rope. "Petrification spell? Stabbed him to death while he couldn't move?"

"That's what I was thinking," Strauss replied. "Whoever it was who killed wanted it to look Muggle, hence the knife, but did a bad job of it. Hart woke up and hexed his attacker with something, and the attacker petrified him. Maybe he finished the job, or maybe it was already done when Hart came to it. Either way, the commotion was what we all heard, and Hart's killer didn't leave as subtly as he came in. Hence the window."

"He jumped out of a window?" Terry said incredulously. "You see a corpse down there?"

"First place I checked before coming back here."

"Hart could've hit him with a Confundus for all we know," I said with a shrug. "But it doesn't matter. The idea was to make it look like a Muggle stabbing, to make us distrustful of those we're trying to save, or to send a message, telling us that the Ogdens can't be kept truly safe here..." I sighed. "There's no wards up around the pub. Half the Ministry operatives don't even know it's Aberforth Dumbledore running this place, and in order to keep that hidden, we didn't want to set off alarm bells by putting up wards in the middle of a Muggle town. And look where that got us."

"I don't know," said Aberforth himself, walking in the room with a sleepy Ernie and Neville in tow. "I quite like the lack of fuss."

"It's all fuss-free until a corpse shows up."

He snorted. "Too right." He hooked a thumb over his shoulder. "None of the Muggles know Hart's dead; they heard the window smash, just think it was an accident of some kind, and won't bother us about the congregation of people in his room. You're welcome, by the way."

"Merlin," Neville interrupted, nervously fiddling with his hands. "You know what this means, Harry."

"He knew the moment he saw the corpse," Ernie said darkly. "I'm barely involved and _I_ know. First The Burrows, now Hart."

"Muggle frame-ups with wizarding assistance," said Terry. "What a mess."

But Neville was shaking his head. "The evenstall's broken. We're even again, and the Harper plan..."

"Astoria's not getting her seat, I know," I finished, the thought making me sad and frustrated at the same time. I wondered if the others picked up on it, but nobody said anything. "And the Wizengamot meeting's tomorrow, and, well. Another lost vote from our side. Killing Harper did nothing when we lost Hart right after."

Dammit, it all went back to Draco Malfoy. Thanks to a bit of happenstance and taking advantage of a horrible situation, Malfoy was at least ten steps ahead than the rest of us. He's had a year to plan these sorts of moves, and even though he might've been making up some of it as he went along, he still had long games, long term plans, some that I wouldn't ever perceive until it would be too late. I knew he had at least one person inside of Granford, Lucas Meadowes, and that asset would no doubt come in handy if he needed somebody killed... Malfoy, Malfoy, Malfoy. My head rumbled with an angry thunder as I thought about it, and I felt the oncoming storm of the approaching confrontation to end it all. Tomorrow's meeting might just be the final catalyst, and if Astoria was sufficiently upset over losing her chance at the Wizengamot seat, _again_, well she might just help me out in ways unknown yet vital...

Of course, I had to get that far first.

"We need to get him out of here," Abe was saying when I tuned back in. "I chased the Muggles away, but they'll smell him soon enough, and Confundus Charms can only do so much."

"Like make people take swan dives from windows," Terry muttered.

"We'll take him home," Neville said firmly. "He's a member of the DMLE, and held a seat on the Wizengamot. He died doing his duty. He deserves a proper funeral."

"I agree," Strauss rumbled. "The DMLE takes care of its own."

"But we can't take him out of here without raising suspicion," said Ernie. "What are we supposed to say if Fortess asks where one of the fresh arrivals went? Somehow I doubt that pretending he never existed would go over too well."

"I agree with that," I said. "We could say that he was bitten and Doc Schulz missed it in his exam, and we just took care of it ourselves. We could say that he just up and abandoned his wife, his daughter and his parents in law."

"He has to go home," Neville said, with even more firmness in his tone. "Harry, it's Susan, okay? He was her friend, and a co-worker, and... She was his god-daughter. You can't take him away from her like that. You know what it's like."

I hadn't known that fact, but I'd always known they were close; close enough for her to get his vote when we needed it. This added complications to our already fractured friendship. Worse still... It was my idea to bring Hart to Granford to help protect the Ogdens, after Malfoy had threatened him if he kept up with the work he did with the scavenging teams. I'd played right into his hand, and now everyone was suffering for it.

Neville's comment had driven the room into a sombre funk, but time was wasting and I had to get down to business again. "I don't think it matters if the Muggles notice if he's gone or not," I said quietly. "This might be it. Today might be the day they're going to kill us all. Whoever is pulling the trigger, or stabbing us in the back, won't matter. Fortess has been compromised, Nott's locked up and ready to strike, and Malfoy's got the advantage, _again_. So, with the meeting tomorrow, he could wipe us all out in one day, and get away with it. If Hart hadn't of cursed his own murderer, maybe he or she would've gone on to kill us in our sleep. It's that simple. We could all die today."

That brought the mood down from sombre to outright depressed.

"Not that I intend for that to happen," I said.

"We know," Abe grunted.

"So this is what we have to do today. More than just keep alert, and safe. We all have to consider what we're going to do and how we can be targeted in the process." I addressed Ernie first. "You're working in the Town Hall now, right?"

He nodded. "Tomorrow's the winter supply inventory count, and we'll be preparing for that. Lots of work, lots of running back and forth to see who has what. Most of mine will be compiling the paperwork."

"Will Fortess be there?"

"He's been showing up to these meetings less and less, but he'll definitely be there today."

"Keep on your guard then. You'll be right next to him the whole time, and all sorts of bad will go down if you draw attention to yourself. Make your actions look natural. Lose yourself in the paperwork." He nodded, and, satisfied, I turned to Terry next. "You've been hanging out with Juliet more and more." Terry grinned at that. "Stop it, or at least don't even let yourself be alone with her." His grin faded and he adopted a hurt look. "Just be careful. Merlin knows what she's carrying, apart from a gun."

"I'll be very careful finding out, yes sir," he said.

"Abe," I continued, "You're on guard duty for our most important possible targets."

Abe nodded his head understandably. "The Ogdens."

"Strauss'll be here too, and Su if she wants to. Just tell her to be careful and do her thing all day."

"Her _thing_?"

"Whatever that is, whatever she's been doing. Just keep the Ogdens here for the day."

Neville was next, and for some reason, addressing him felt harder than it did the day before. A part of it might've been the trip down memory lane I took with Ellie last night, and the reminder that Neville had no real reason to ally up with me after my _reaction _to him killing Sarah. Another part, one trying to keep a focus on the present, was reminded that he sided with Susan on the Harper issue, and was not seeming to take Hart's death well, if only for his friend's sake. But, despite that cautious feeling I felt, I still had to inform him of the next move.

"You can take Hart back to Susan," I told him. "You can be there for her and make her understand that I didn't mean for this... If you believe I didn't. Either way, it's best you're gone if I'm right and we'll be dead soon. If they kill us both, there's no risk of evenstalling. If only I die, we still have your vote. Understand? Get ready to go in an hour or so. I need to write a few letters first."

"Is that your plan for the day?" Terry asked. "Write letters?"

"He's probably going to visit Malfoy after," Ernie guessed.

"Not today, not yet," I said shortly. "Look, the way things are going, I've found out Malfoy's more involved than we thought. Than we _ever _thought. Long story short, I need to play him carefully, and call in that life debt he owes me. It's tomorrow's meeting that will push us into whatever's coming. He has time to slip up, and when he falls, I'll be there to succeed where I have to, however I have to. I wanted to kill Harper because it was an _action_ and not a _reaction_, and this is the same, but different. I'm reacting to Hart's death and focusing on making sure we don't die today, but tomorrow, I'm acting. The letters I'll write will help to that, so Neville, just deliver them out when you get back to Hogwarts, all right?"

Neville was gone a little under an hour later, taking my letters and Hart's body with him. It wasn't the most dignified way for a body to be transported home, transfigured into a bone, but there was no other way. A subdued breakfast followed, after which the others went off to their day, and I made sure Ellie and her family were alert and prepared just in case. With that done, I found myself out in the cold morning sun, wandering towards the police station.

I didn't go inside, but I did settle in across the street underneath a shrubbery, lying down on my stomach next to Ron, who'd been watching the station all night. The two of us were Disillusioned and properly hidden, of course, and didn't really have to be on the ground like this, but we were anyway.

"Heard what happened?" I asked.

"Su came and told me. Sorry to hear about it."

"Nothing we could do."

Ron shook his head sadly, his freckles dark red spots on pale, sallow, skin. "Why are you here?"

"I haven't taken a shift yet," I replied, gesturing at the station. "I might take over for the day, so you can get some sleep."

He shot me a dark look. "I'm unlikely to sleep, Harry."

"Then I want you helping to keep Ellie safe back at Abe's." I let loose a great sigh, one that had been building in me all morning. As tired as I was, I wouldn't sleep either; the story that kept me up last night brought with it reminders of things I wished I hadn't recalled, and it would take a while to push past that. "I need to be focused, and need to think about things," I said to both myself and Ron. "Sitting out here will help me do that. I wouldn't dare leave to go play with politics or go squabble with Malfoy. Not now." I sighed again.

Let it be said that Ron has his perceptive moments. I don't know why, but he seemed to understand where I really wanted to be today. "Astoria?"

"Complicated." As happy as an afternoon with her would make me, I still couldn't push past what her husband had done, and the action I would push her into might just cross a line I'm not willing to cross. I would want to go over to see her in order to be calm and focused, and just plain happy, and right now I got the feeling I'd ruin that. Again, the story from last night wasn't helping there. The reminder of guilt over Sarah was gnawing at my insides. "Just go, Ron. I can handle the shift."

"If you're sure. But you should know..." He shrugged. "The monitoring charms picked up Nott talking to himself. He, uh... muttered your name, over and over, for like an hour there. Harry, he was calling for you."

The thought chilled me. I looked at the station...

I didn't go inside. I wasn't crazy, not after last night. Nott was poison, and his words were true and horrifying all at once. He'd told me all I wanted to hear, and I'd heard too much.

And now he was calling for me, a grey cloud on the horizon, bringing the storm with him. Him on one horizon, Malfoy on another.

I didn't know what to think of that.

"On second thought," I said, before Ron could get up. "Su can handle the day shift... Did you see Lucas Meadowes in the night?"

Ron's eyebrows furrowed. "Malfoy's spy? Yeah, but, I mean, he lives in the station with the others, so goes back and forth as they go. I saw him head out last night to go for sentry duty up at the filtering station."

"And that gives him plenty of time to skive off and go kill Hart this morning... We're going to need to talk to him soon. Forcefully, if need be. You said last night that you wanted to help on things like that? You can hold him down and I'll break his bones."

He smiled a vicious little smile, and I returned it with one of my own.

..::..-.-..::..

The sun was hanging in the middle of the sky when Ron and I met next. "He's not in the town hall?" When Ron shook his head, I asked, "But where is he now?"

"Ernie said he showed up this morning, limping," said Ron; he'd just come back from the town hall, and the two of us were meeting off to the side of the centre square. "I heard him tell Juliet he slipped in the shower."

"Probably hurt more than his leg with that fall," I noted. "But if the leg's still acting up, that means poor self-inflicted Healing spells - couldn't leave to go get properly healed without alerting anybody. With injuries like that, attention would get back to his bosses."

"Right. Fortess put him on lighter duty today out by the armoury, and he's about to take his lunch break."

I nodded. "Best opening we could for."

"Harry," Ron said seriously, "What are we planning to do with him?"

"My idea would be to get the truth, for one," I replied, crossing my arms. "If Hart did hit him with a Confundus or something, he might be injured or incoherent enough to spill some secrets. We get what we need, threaten him into silence. Plan?"

"Good as any."

Ten minutes later, Meadowes was heading to his lunch break, and Ron and I managed to corner him in an alleyway; he'd been taking a shortcut back to the police station, and my own wanderings in the town enabled me to cut him off on end.

"Hello Lucas," I said, drawing my wand but keeping it pointed down. "I think it's time we had a talk."

The man turned his head and saw Ron coming up from behind, blocking that end of the alley. Ron's wand flicked, a burst of red light spat out, and Meadowes's wand holster snapped off his thigh and onto the ground.

"Oops," said Ron.

Meadowes held his hands up in surrender, leaning unsteadily on his injured leg. He was shivering in the cold, and maybe from a bit of fear, but still managed to look me directly in the eyes when he said, "Don't kill me."

I snorted. "No intention to, despite the fact you very much deserve it."

He paled. "Look, I didn't want to get _this_ involved, but things just happened, okay? I was just being paid to drop some names every now and then, tell whoever wanted to know what was going on, get it?"

"But let me guess. The gold suddenly increased and your capacity to do more than just spy increased at the same time. By complete accident."

"You don't know me Potter, so don't try that with me. You know who's paying me, and you know that sometimes you can't just say _no!" _

"But you could, you idiot!" I snapped. "I know you now as a scared, greedy, little insignificant insect, waiting to be squashed."

"I am not an insect," he said hotly.

"If you're scared enough to make a seventh bullet appear out of a gun that shoots six, you can be scared into going around and cursing people in the back!" I stepped forward and brought my wand to meet his eye level, the tip of the wood bright orange in colour and spitting small sparks onto his chest. "You were there on the night of The Burrows attack, weren't you."

He nodded his head.

"Whatever plan of Malfoy's required a wizard there just in case things went bad, and he upped your pay in exchange for openly assisting Fortess as a wizard."

"I didn't want to, but Malfoy set me up," he bit out.

"Of course he did!" I exclaimed, laughing bitterly. "That is what he does, and you were stupid enough to take some more gold instead of running to Robards like you should've done. You know, show some integrity, be a man... Not go don a black cloak and set fire to innocent people's homes. We have a name for those kinds of people. You fought them in the war; _Death Eaters_. And before you even deny being as bad as they are, I want you to tell me what other way would be to describe somebody who is a coward enough to kill a superior opponent while he's sleeping?"

Meadowes took a step back, the back of his neck getting pricked by the tip of Ron's wand. Ron's face was expressionless, but I knew he was more than prepared to take Meadowes down if need be.

I stepped closer until he was all but sandwich between me, Ron, and our wands. "Out with it, or I take back what I said earlier about not killing you," I said warningly.

"I didn't want to do it -"

"Yeah I bet."

"I knew Hart from back in the day, and he was a good man!"

"But you still killed him," Ron hissed. "Just another death to the others, right? Harry and I could start listing names, and for every one, we could break something of yours."

"Please don't, please -"

"Did you kill Hart?" I pressed. "Just say it."

"Fuck, I didn't..." He shook his head emphatically, and he shivered in the cold again. "I had to do that because things changed. The first plan we had didn't work, and I... I couldn't. And when I told 'im what happened, he told me to kill Hart instead. And I did. I'm not proud of it, and Merlin I almost wish the fall out the window had killed me, but..." Meadowes closed his eyes and whimpered pitifully. "I didn't want to. Just know that before you hand me over, or kill me, or whatever. It's probably gonna be better than what's coming next."

It was pretty much what I expected to hear, in most ways. That they had a second plan might've meant that Draco was forced to react to Harper's death differently than he would've originally, and despite Lucas's comment I got the feeling it was something on Malfoy's end that changed the plan; say, Astoria...

Tomorrow's meeting would would tell how far Malfoy would go in public, and I'd have to make a visit to Malfoy Manor afterwards, that's for sure. I couldn't go today, but... There were all sorts of things I could do tomorrow, in preparation.

Today, I had to deal with Meadowes; the incident with Hart had scared him enough, and I could use that fear. I leaned in close and said, almost whispering, "I'm not going to kill you today. As much as I want to. There's two reasons behind this. The first is that, well, it would be noticed if you ended up a corpse. If you're in good with Fortess now, then taking you out would lead to more retaliation. Though I will note that with your injury, you can still afford to be missing for a while... So just a head's up: if you don't agree with the rest of my logic, I'll turn that while into the most hellish time of your life. Okay, where was I? Right, the second reason is because you have some use. For me. Against your current employer."

"Not happening," Meadowes spat.

"Need I remind you of the hellish time of your life that will ensue? Whatever Malfoy will put you through may be horrible, but the difference between that and this is that _this_ is right now, and _that_ is in the future. So... Which one would you prefer?"

He said nothing, just glared at me with hatred.

"Okay, right now, I'll just need a rundown of how you do things, where your drop-off is, and whether or not you have emergency plans to aid in the destruction of Granford should the time arise. For one, if you're the trigger man for Fortess's death..."

It turned out he wasn't, and over the next few minutes he detailed how things went for him - he had a dropbox system set up out past the filtering station tunnel, he had on hand an emergency portkey that could be activated as soon as he breached the wards, and no, he wasn't told to neutralise Fortess in case of attack. He was pretty forthcoming thanks to Ron's ministrations and my threats, and while we got a picture of his operation, we didn't get much on Malfoy himself. Not that I truly expected to, but still, worth a shot.

"This is what's going to happen now," I said once we were finished. "My friends will go check on every little nook and cranny you just described to us, and if it comes up clear, you'll be free to go about your day. Of course, we'll set up some kind of magical binding to prevent you from betraying us, or killing us, and to help things along... Your first payment will be tomorrow. You will accept the gold, and you won't complain, got it?"

He nodded furiously.

"Good. Ron, I'll leave you to it. I have to go check on the Ogdens, okay? Keep an eye on this one."

Ron shot me a sardonic look, grabbed Lucas Meadowes by the shoulder and frog-marched him down the alleyway - towards the filtering station, to check over the dropbox system.

I was about to leave the alleyway when a familiar figure stepped into view. "Interesting conversation you just had," Juliet O'Flynn said stonily. She was fully kitted out in a dark blue hooded jumper, one of her hands buried in one of the pockets. Curled around a gun, probably. Joyous.

However, if she wanted to kill me, she would've done so outright, not confront me like this. "Sorry," I said carefully. "Just had to -"

"Threaten Meadowes?" she interrupted. "And here I come... just in time to see your friend take him away with a bit of force, and you looking like your plotting your next move."

"You got me." I raised my hands in surrender. "Now what are you going to do about it? Tell Fortess?"

She smiled uneasily, unnervingly. "I'm going to tell you to fuck off somewhere else. I'm going to tell you that Fortess already knows the kind of person you are. Remember my advice last time we spoke?"

"Watch my back?"

"You might end up like Hart, otherwise," she said plainly.

I didn't say anything, I didn't act. Juliet was in the same position as Meadowes in one aspect; getting rid of her, wiping that look off of her face, would be satisfying, but wouldn't help anything. However Malfoy had manipulated Fortess had filled Juliet, a woman as hard as they came, with the knowledge of the game being played. She was having her fun, by the looks of things, taunting and teasing, because she could. She was trying to provoke me, and I got the feeling it wasn't under Fortess's orders. She was acting on her own. That's all there was to it.

"Get going," she said, nodding her head down the alleyway. She turned, daring me to strike her, shrugged her shoulders, and shot back, "It won't happen today. You and your friends aren't to be touched, now... Unless you give us, _me_, good reason to."

More than a little unnerved, I turned and walked in the opposite direction.

..::..-.-..::..

The rest of the day passed quickly and without fanfare, but the lull had given me time to think, to plan. The night had been full yet empty, of dreams or nightmares, or thoughts of any kind. I slept, but it didn't feel like I had when I awoke in the morning, leaving Granford under my Cloak to do my rounds for the day, in preparation for what was coming next. The Wizengamot meeting was at noon, but my first meeting of the day was breakfast, with Grey Gale.

"How are you doing?" I asked right off. I'd double checked the privacy charms, and for his own safety he was under disguise, blond-haired and stockier than he usually was. "Have you been...?"

He nodded. "They don't know a thing, Harry. I, um, went to our meetings, and I know the plan for today's meeting." He frowned a little to himself. "Well, as much as I'm _allowed_ to know."

I'd expected something like that, but I gestured for him to continue.

"Well the plan is to slander Robards, and use The Burrows attack to help that," said Gale. "Say how he never told us that the attackers were Muggle."

"So his leaning on Cuffe will look like he's favouring my side," I concluded. Which he _was_, but he had a remarkably roundabout way of doing so. "Anything else?"

"They've got reactions for your side, if you offer up any _slanderous_ comments against their side." He ticked off his fingers. "They'll use Harper, Hart, Aquilla, anything and everything. They'll provoke you, they'll try and destroy you, and they'll call for the vote. My role will be to just agree - I'm a vote, not an influence on other people. But -" Gale looked uncomfortable. "- they also said I should be quick to decry the Muggles for their acts. It'll add credibility because everyone knows what my parents were..."

I tried to think back to previous meetings, but Gale had always been low-key, lest the stuffy and old Wizengamot look down on him for his age and inexperience. "Do they always force you to do stuff like that?"

"They didn't always _force_ me, Harry," Gale said quietly. "I'm trying to make up for it now, but I don't even have anything you can use... but by the look on your face, you saw all of this coming."

"I know to prepare for the worst, especially after everything," I said wisely.

"There is one thing I found out. Might be nothing, but..." He shrugged his shoulders. "I was over at Draco's for a talk a few weeks ago, and we were in his study. He was writing down some things on a bit of parchment, you know, plans and stuff, and I think it might've been a summary of our talk, right there and then. I asked him about it, and he says he likes to keep these things straight. But I think it's that he gives those notes to everyone else."

More likely it was something to do with keeping things straight, for Draco was the man behind it all; even Gale didn't know that.

"He keeps them all in his study," said Gale. "The notes, and a lot of them. The cabinets are filled with them, so of course they're warded. When I was over yesterday I poked around, but couldn't get past them. But if they're important enough to keep behind those wards..."

"Then they're worth getting ahold of," I said with a nod. "Actual evidence; Draco wouldn't normally be so stupid as to write it all down, but... Keeping it in his head would be worse. If a Legilimens scanned his mind and saw..."

Gale's eyes widened. "You think he Obliviates himself?"

"We'll pretend I never said that," I said quickly, but thinking, _Or I'll have to Obliviate _you, _Gale. _

"Yeah, right. That's all I've got for you." He leaned his head back and let loose a great sigh, disappointed and frustrated at himself.

"And that other thing?" I prompted. "That I asked for yesterday?"

"Oh right." He reached into his robe pocket and brought out a black silk bag held together by a white cord. He undid the cord and slid the open bag over to me, and I took a look. Inside the bag was gold, and lots of it. "What'd you need this for, again?"

"Paying off someone," I said, taking the bag and placing it in my pocket. As far as gestures went, it was more than enough. "Thanks Gale. I owe you one."

He smiled sheepishly. "I know how you can pay that."

"Get the disclosure bill passed, save the Muggles, save the world, go on to invent a cure for being undead?"

"Well yeah." He grinned. "But you know, umm, Lara? Wilkinson, the Auror? Former classmate of mine who I never, really, you know, talked to, and I was just... You worked with her on the scavenging team, didn't you? Think maybe you can..." He gestured his hands. "Introduce me?"

I laughed. "_That_ I can do, when all of this is over."

Grey Gale leaned back in his chair and relaxed. "I'm suddenly feeling a lot more positive about everything."

That sobered me. I, on the other hand, was more wary than positive. Malfoy had already threatened me if I went for Gale's vote, and while I thought I had caught a lucky break by having Gale come to _me_... All I could think about was how Malfoy lied, manipulated, pushed and pulled... And I didn't know what was going to come next.

..::..-.-..::..

"We had a brief service for him last night," said Susan, not meeting my gaze as she shuffled the files in front of her. "Nobody has time for big funerals, not anymore, and since we didn't want too many people asking questions about why he died and on what assignment, we kept it quiet. He had no family outside the DMLE. The funeral felt smaller than it should've been."

"I'm sorry," I said, in that way they taught me back in St Mungo's. Sympathetic on the outside, but unfeeling inside. It was all I could muster right now.

Dust filled my nostrils in the dark, musty, room, a tiny sliver of sunlight coming from the boarded windows at the front of the store. The silence of the store, save for Susan unfurling rolls of parchment, was comforting given what was going on outside.

"Now's not the time to talk about it," said Susan, and I very much agreed.

I had visited her after my breakfast with Gale, to hand off the condensed, written, version of the Wizengamot meeting plan, which the rest of us had worked on last night, despite the sombre mood. I wanted to deliver it personally, and maybe try to offer _something_ for what happened to Hart, but I hadn't expected the trip to be post-phoned by her asking me for help.

And I definitely hadn't expected a trip into zombie-infested Diagon Alley.

"You found what you're looking for?" I asked.

"Just a moment..." She scrunched her nose in the din as she scanned the parchment. "The owner kept his paperwork, but didn't seem to appreciate any kind of ordering system."

"But what we're looking for...?"

"It's here." She nodded her head. "Yes, right here. Copies of notices to the Ministry. When somebody flashes their Ministry-issued permit to purchase regulated substances or ingredients, the proprietor has to inform the Ministry to check the permits are legitimate. Of course, a bit of gold will make either the Ministry officials or the owner look the other way, but the owner of here - Jigger - kept them all, as he should..."

"We're lucky Diagon Alley didn't get burned down," I offered.

"Yes, lucky." The silence of the room was pierced suddenly by the drone of the undead horde milling in the street. Susan shivered at the sound and quickly picked up another roll of parchment, then another, and another. Eventually, she found what she was looking for, and started to read aloud, "Christian Selwyn, purchased dragon's blood in 1992... Found it." She rolled the parchment back up, folded the roll, and pocketed it. "We can go now."

"You want to talk out here or back in your office?" I asked.

"The Leaky Cauldron's safe, and I don't want this getting back to the DMLE."

We went back the way we came, through the maze of back rooms of Slug and Jigger's, the leading apothecary in Diagon Alley before the outbreak. The back door took us out into an alleyway, where the air was cold, the sun was blocked by grey clouds, and the zombies were out and about for their morning stroll. Diagon's Alley, located in the heart of London, had not survived the onslaught of the walking dead. I was locked down in St Mungo's and the Ministry was busy with its own outbreak when it happened, and unlike both of those incidents, there was no known cause, no known _exact_ cause, for what turned Diagon into the zombie hangout it is today. It was possible it was just because of the amount of people packed into one spot, unable to escape. It was also possible that the zombie-infested London had spilled into the Leaky Cauldron and beyond the wall into wizarding Britain's prosperous commercial district.

The main street was a shell of its former self, and although Slug and Jigger's had survived any fires, a lot of other buildings hadn't been so lucky, and hollowed husks stood at their foundations, of ash and of debris, sitting in between and across the more intact buildings. Down at the far end of the street, Gringotts was a marble ruin, the goblins trapped or destroyed by a mix of the undead and their own tendency to protect their money until the end. Those who trapped themselves in the vaults wouldn't be rescued by the Ministry anytime soon, especially with better things to be done with their time. Diagon Alley as a whole had been abandoned because it wasn't needed anymore. Nobody wanted to venture in the middle of London, even behind all these wards.

So why were Susan and I crazy enough to visit? I assumed it had to do with her investigation into The Burrows attack, and I'd find out in the Leaky Cauldron, after braving a trip through the streets and cutting a swath through the undead. To do so, we distracted some towards the Gringotts end of the street with loud noises and the smell of burnt meat - their fellow zombies, extra crispy. After that, there were too many to just leave there, so I conjured up a small tornado of magic, which gathered bits and pieces of the debris and swept towards the horde, pushing bricks through brains and impaling others with shards of glass. Some of George's WWW products got caught up and made quite a cacophony, exploding in purple and black smoke up the other end of the alley. The most memorable death in the tornado was of a Asian girl, still in her teens, who took a high-speed book on Occlumency in the face, soon becoming buried under a few more choice tomes picked up by the tornado in the ruins of Flourish and Blott's.

Susan did her share of the work as well, her own zombie-killing covering the strays my tornado didn't, and her style was much like my usual way: simple, direct, nothing fancy, nothing draining. Though... there was a reluctance, I suppose, in her spellwork that reminded me that there were people who hadn't completely reconciled that the undead weren't, you know, alive anymore. Some people still saw them as things to be pitied and not destroyed, not when there was still hope of a cure. Lucky me, I had read some of their minds, and very much knew better.

The Leaky Cauldron was a sight for sore eyes, though the upturned tables and blood ruined the effect it had on me in my childhood. Susan and I took a booth in the centre of the room, setting up spells that would alert us to approaching movement. She unrolled the parchment while I tried to ignore the times Sarah and I ate together in booths much like this one.

"I've been tracing the Everlasting Fire they used on The Burrows," Susan explained to my unasked question. "See, you can't just make Everlasting Fire. There's a process involved, and it takes months and a dozen people at the least, unless you're someone like Dumbledore, and even then, you still need to perform a few rituals to make the enchantment hold, to make the fire burn in the very fabric of reality forever and ever, through darkness and... Anyway. One of the essential rituals requires some stuff the Ministry would classify as, while not quite dangerous, still not something they'd hand over to any old customer. Of those I checked, there was only one man who had the permit to buy such ingredients through a retailer like Slug and Jigger's."

"Christian Selwyn," I concluded. "Malfoy's best friend and mouthpiece, former Death Eater and apparently, a Potions Master."

"Yeah, he has his moments," Susan said sardonically. "If he had some of the ingredients on hand, it might be able to point out that him and Malfoy were responsible for the Everlasting Fire. Bit of a long shot, but if we find enough proof to make people even _think_ they're responsible... I tried the apothecaries that sprung up after Jigger's got abandoned, and they gave me the initial idea that he bought some things, but the rarer ingredients would've had to been retrieved from a supplier who still had the stock. The outbreak would kill the trade, yes, but it's still worth a look now. Okay, look here." She pointed at the parchment. "Selwyn bought Quintaped blood - one of the ingredients - and lots of it... Hold on, only... A month before the outbreak. Back when it was just The Stigma."

"A month." While it was possible that Malfoy had wanted a stock of these sorts of ingredients before the world rid itself of half of them, it wouldn't be a solid lead to show the Wizengamot. It would all go back to what I heard from Nott, and while I didn't doubt the mad man's words, they wouldn't be considered useful in the long run.

Susan seemed to realise it at the same time as I did, though she didn't know about Nott's revelation that Malfoy had been planning since he heard about The Stigma. "Circumstantial," she murmured to herself. "Dammit, I knew it would be, but we still had to check..."

"So we can't use the Everlasting Fire against them today."

"No."

"It was worth a go," I said encouragingly. "And we tried, okay? You've done great work for me Susan, but sometimes... You'll hit dead ends."

She eyed me, not quite distrustfully, but not quite trustfully either. "And you won't?"

"I have..." Resources, I suppose the word would be. I still had Astoria, my life debt with Draco, access to a whole bunch of people via the Wizengamot, and Lucas Meadowes. I wanted Susan to still try, though, because a respected DMLE officer bringing evidence forward would lend more credence in the grand scheme than me pushing confessions out of people without tangible evidence. "I have ideas," I decided on.

"Good, because I'm out of them." She leaned back in her chair and sighed tiredly, rubbing her eyes with her knuckles. Her dark red hair seemed listless in her tiredness, and, I realised, in her grief. Hart's death had only been yesterday, and here she was, walking into a zombie-infested Diagon Alley to chase a dead end.

I felt the need to keep her focused, and asked, "Did I get some replies from my letters I sent yesterday? The Wizengamot?"

"Oh, yeah, right." She pushed herself up in her chair and sat with her back straight against it. "Amos Diggory confirmed he's still supporting you, and wishes you luck. Angus MacMillan has politely said that he intends to keep his ultimate decision on the vote to himself, which means he probably won't be swinging our way yet. Brown and Patil both affirmed that they tied up that loose end you asked for. Apart from that, nothing."

"Nothing?"

"No."

"Cuffe?"

"Nothing, Harry."

"And that other thing I asked after?" I asked, and a nervous feeling drove itself in the back of my head. "Archie Forscythe?"

"I don't know your issue with him, but my digging turned up that he's gone missing." _Shit, _I thought. _Was afraid of that_. "He was slumming in Fairlane for the past year, did work for _Serpent's Delight_, but just stopped showing up one day. And the next, and the next, et cetera. He's probably dead somewhere, just got bitten, or drank himself to death, or just killed himself. It happens, now and then."

I doubted this was the same. Archie Forscythe had been one of the few that was there when I pulled some pretty character-tainting stunts in the St Mungo's lockdown. Unlike Su or Neville, he was corruptible enough that if the pureblood agenda offered him gold and protection in exchange for some kind of testimonial, he would go for it. Whatever he'd tell whoever wanted to hear it, I didn't want to know, and I only hoped I didn't hear about it in the meeting today.

Over on another table there was a faded newspaper, the front article's headline warning about the new disease fresh out of St Mungo's, called The Dementor's Stigma. My mind flashed back to reading it while standing over Vivian Waters's corpse, and I shook my head to clear the image. "I guess that's all we have to share," I said.

I didn't move to stand up or anything like that. We'd exchanged all the information we needed to, and a long-abandoned pub wasn't exactly a place we wanted to hang out in much longer, but the issue of Hart still hung in the air. I'd already probed her about it back in Slug and Jigger's, but if it was still something worth talking about, she would make the first move.

And she did. "Do you know why they chose Hart?"

I winced. "No." I'd already been torturing myself over that, why _him_, for a day, but to no avail.

"Oh," was all she said; she didn't know either, and by the look on her face, she didn't feel much better about it.

My mind kept going back to Astoria, and my plan to get her vote by having her sit her seat after killing off Harper from his. Did Draco decide to kill Hart instead of putting Astoria in her seat because he knew that she would go my way, and didn't want to chance it? Did I say something, did she? Or was Hart something else entirely, just a message or a way of provoking me into action again? Killing Harper lost me two votes and almost lost me Ogden, not to mention putting Ellie in danger. What was next?

Susan hadn't been reading my thoughts, but she seemed to be on a similar track. Blame laced her voice next. "I didn't want you to go out and kill Harper, not for the mere _chance_ Astoria Malfoy would come down on our side."

"I know, Susan."

"I was worried it would escalate, that you acting rashly for the sake of that woman would end badly."

Despite it, I felt a little flush of anger at her attitude towards Astoria, but... well, from her perspective, Susan had the right of it.

"The Harper plan _failed_, your plan to bring Hart into Granford _failed_."

I didn't have anything to say to that. Both plans had been my ideas, forward-thinking actions that had put me right into the hands of Malfoy and circumstance.

"I want to arrest you," said Susan. "I want to yell at you, I want to hex you. I want... But I won't, I can't, I just won't. I want to tell you, 'I told you so', but I don't want to at the same time. I trusted you Harry. You promised safety to all those you brought with you to Granford, and you can't guarantee _that_ anymore. I've been trusting you this whole time, and so has Neville, and so did Artemis, and so have all the others... But look at what happened." She let that sink in for a moment, before asking, "How can I be sure that your plans for Malfoy or his wife or Robards or Cuffe aren't going to go the same way?"

"I don't know," I said honestly. "I just don't. Maybe that bridge has been burned, and maybe we are all screwed. _But_." I leaned on the word with great weight, and made sure she was looking into my eyes as I continued, "I'm not letting this setback, that man's _death_, go without salvaging something. It all goes back to that disclosure bill, Susan. That _fucking_ bill which we never should've needed in the first place. But Malfoy chose that as an avenue to propel his dream of a magical utopia forward. He's doing things nice and legally, to rid the world of the stigma the Malfoy name had, to slowly but surely turn the public into his own, all for that dream. Right now, he's turning those in power, those playing the Wizengamot game, and he doesn't even have to try very hard to just prevent us from winning. He's got plans within plans, long-term and short-term, and the Wizengamot, and the bill, is critical to them. If we can snag the bill out from under him, trip him up on this one thing... I think that's how we can win this. You're right in saying I can't guarantee anyone's safety, but as for wondering if my plan for Malfoy will fail? I don't intend it to. Not after Hart. Not now. Not after everything I've learnt about his plotting."

Susan nodded, satisfied. "That's what I wanted to hear," she said quietly. "Thank you, for that, and... You brought Hart back yesterday."

"Thank Neville, not me."

"I thanked him too, but you sent him to me, and he was helpful." She smiled fondly. "He's a good man..." She looked briefly hesitant, eyes roaming across the room before going back to me. "... and you are too. Just that... If you even have an idea about who killed Hart, tell me. If you can't tell me, then at least promise you'll hand him or her over to the DMLE for justice. The DMLE takes care of its own, and avenges it own within the boundaries of the law. Do you understand?"

I thought of Meadowes. His use wouldn't be much after I got what I needed, and if Malfoy didn't dispose of him, I'd follow through on this promise. "I do, I do." Merlin, at least I would _try_.

"I got this for you too." Susan reached into her pocket and brought out yet another cloth bag - this one purple with a gold cord - and the coins inside _chink_ed on the tabletop. "That's for Zabini, if you intend to use it or not."

I reached for the bag, never intending for Zabini to have it. It was for Lucas Meadowes, just like Gale's gold, and the guilt I felt at taking gold from a woman to pay her godfather's murderer off was high, a dark pit settling in my stomach.

I had one more visit to make before the Wizengamot meeting would begin, and Susan had DMLE business to attend to. We left the Leaky Cauldron, saying nothing else. No rest for the wicked.

..::..-.-..::..

"See, the green smoke is telling me the poison's out of your system." I turned my wand over a bit to release the wisp coming from the end. The smoke, bottle green and colour and completely odourless, swirled like a whirlpool and soon collapsed into itself, disappearing into nothing with a small _puff _sound. "The bells from earlier told me that your heart's beating at its usual pace, the blue flickering light assures me that, again, there's nothing harmful in your system, though the little streaks of red in the Strahl's Variation means your kidneys might give you trouble if they're not cleaned out, so..." I pushed a small vial into his hands. "Take this now - and don't worry, it tastes minty and doesn't burn - and it'll clean out your system properly. I'll bring 'round some more just in case, but my diagnosis? You're in the clear."

Tiberius Ogden uncorked the vial and downed it in one gulp. "Much obliged," he said after audibly swallowing it. "It's good to know they other side honours their agreements, even if they _did_ poison me in the first place."

"Don't I just know it," I said sourly.

Ogden's scotch had been laced with a specific, and deadly, poison somewhere along the way. Malfoy and his friends had alerted both Ogden and myself via letter, with instructions to move the Chief Warlock's family into Granford or else lose him before today's meeting. The antidote had been sent over almost immediately after Gladys, Amaris and Ellie got into Granford, and thank Merlin for that. Losing Ogden now would be a political implosion; for my side, it would mean the end. So why did their side decide to keep him alive? Ogden himself asked that question aloud then.

"To them, you still have your uses," I replied. "Your family's in prime position to be harmed."

"Don't I just know it," Ogden parroted, sinking back in his office's chair with visible effort. "Look at what happened to Hart."

He seemed to be waiting for assurances, but I was fresh out of those. "To the purebloods, you have your use as long as you can be repetitively threatened. And this is all behind-the-scenes stuff. To the public, your death would highlight the true fracture of the Wizengamot. It's all a ploy to make themselves look more legitimate, while still getting what they want from us."

"Do you think they'll try to poison me again?"

"It's a possibility," I said, nodding. "I've got your blood from when you were poisoned, and I'll give it a look to see if I can make an antidote for next time, but then they'd probably use a different poison. I also know you'll have your food and drink double-checked, but they'll still find a way."

"They always do," Ogden said sadly. "I am very much resigning when all of this is over."

"You might be still needed."

He gave me a sharp look. "And if I don't want to be _needed_? Look at all the death and destruction that's being wrought because of the Wizengamot. I'm supposed to lead this body into peaceful resolutions, to be the strong man that holds it all together. My wizards, my responsibility, are being murdered in their homes or in their beds. We're lost, Harry. The Wizengamot, the whole game, is fractured and corrupt, broken and twisted. But..." He let out a tired sigh. "I'm here because there's still a chance. This disclosure bill might be the most important issue we'll ever vote on, especially with the world as it is now... I just wish somebody better was running things. I'm no Albus Dumbledore."

Ogden's lack of faith in himself, and in everything he worked so hard to cultivate and keep alive after Dumbledore's death, was disheartening. He had been through some challenges as the Chief Warlock in the days following the Voldemort war when the best and the worst of the Death Eaters passed by his Wizengamot for trial and judgement. That a lot of them still got off scot-free hadn't done much for his confidence, and that those same people were wreaking havoc and threatening him and his family cannot have been a very positive reinforcement to his own measure of self worth. He was sliding down, and down, and down. Just another person for me to see lose themselves in front of my eyes, to go down to a place I can't save them from.

"I'm not Dumbledore either," I said quietly. "He wasn't perfect, and people died under his watch too, and... me and you are _less_ than him, and in more dire times. So we have to fight harder and stronger, and not give up when there's still a chance."

"But my family..."

"I can't promise anything anymore. I underestimated somebody I shouldn't have. I'll try not to make the mistake twice." And, yet again, there was nothing else to say but, "I truly don't want anyone else to die, but the other side's not the same. I'm sorry for that."

"Nobody's perfect," said Ogden. He reached into his robes and pulled out a golden pocketwatch on a chain. When he flipped it open, his gaze flickered to the top of the watch before going back down - if I had to guess, some kind of picture set in the case. "The meeting will be soon," he announced, pocketing the pocketwatch. "You shouldn't be seen near me this close. It's best you go prepare yourself. I get the feeling this one's going to be brutal."

You and me both.

..::..-.-..::..

The first thing I noticed about this summit of the ancient body of the Wizengamot was that the absence of four of our number made the Great Hall feel more empty, cavernous, the Wizengamot itself a shadow of what it once was. The new seating arrangements didn't have me sitting across from Malfoy anymore, either, and I spent the first part of the meeting - the traditional, ceremonial, stuff Ogden had to go through - boring a hole in the wall behind and in between Selwyn and Cuffe's chairs, with Malfoy to their right. When people began talking, I titled my head now and then to look at the other man. He didn't look back, his face cool and poised, sharp eyes focused on the speakers at the front of the room. He didn't move, didn't blink. Had I known otherwise, I would've thought him to be asleep.

"Ministry resources have been well used in this matter, I believe," Amos Diggory said, standing at the front of the room. "The Burrows is being rebuilt to what it was and more - I'm hearing talk of applying some fire-delaying enchantment, and a new Floo connection into the market square that can prevent a repeat of the incident that very nearly destroyed one of our most prosperous communities."

"And the Muggles?" Burke asked, and my heart lurched for a moment. Burke seemed to sense that, and smirked a little at me before continuing. "The Muggles who live in such a prosperous community. Have they been a vital part of the rebuilding process?"

"Of course," Susan replied instantly. "I was there myself just this morning, and everyone's playing a part. The Ministry -" She tipped her head to her boss Samuel Stark, sitting on Ogden's right hand. "- is coorperating with the village's leader and former Wizengamot member Bill Weasley, who has everybody pitching in a hand. The new man-made barricades the Muggles have devised are just as vital as the new wards and alarms being erected by our warders."

"And in times like these, such cooperation should be valued," said Brown.

"Aye," Amos agreed. "The Burrows will be back at its fullest as soon as possible. This time off from the Wizengamot has been instrumental in playing a part in this process, my fellow lords and ladies, and I thank the Chief Warlock for giving us this time." He tipped his head to Ogden, high up on his throne, and ambled back to his chair. He wasn't even fully settled when Bulstrode snorted to himself.

"A comment from the chair Bulstrode?" Ogden prompted.

"I've played my part in the rebuilding process, all I could offer, with gold for the overworked Ministry workers, and a supply of food from Fairlane to help the hungry and homeless. However..." Bulstrode held up one fat little finger. "With respect, this time has been chaotic for the Wizengamot, for our people."

"Chaotic?" MacMillan asked, scrunching his nose. "What do you mean?"

Sly, snakey, silky Selwyn slid forward in his seat and replied first. "Two of our number seem to be missing, Mr MacMillan."

"_Four_ of our number are missing," I corrected, but for some reason that felt like walking into a trap.

"You misunderstand me, Healer Potter." Selwyn smirked. Yep, trap; I just gave him the opportunity to do that thing he did. "I named two not out of disrespect, but because of the circumstances. Mr Weasley's withdrawal was unfortunate, but understandable. We've all had duty to our families that needs to be followed, and when you see him next, pass on my best regards. Isaac Aquilla was another unfortunate loss, but a casualty in a senseless attack whose death was used as an excuse to push the meeting back."

"An excuse?" Neville asked incredulously. "An _excuse_? A man's death?"

But Selwyn bulled on, ignoring him. "Both of those losses worked towards this extra time gifted to us after the attack, and in that time, we lost two more of our number. My point, the same one my friedn Bulstrode was trying to make, is that those two shouldn't have been lost in this lull. When we lost Mr Weasley, the evenstall kept us from any further decisions, but when we lost Aquilla, we should've been right back into a meeting. The attack on The Burrows has everything to do with this Wizengamot, and what happened when we let there be time? Mr Harper and Auror Hart died. And not just deaths like Aquilla's. _Murders_. They were murdered."

_Aquilla was murdered too_, I almost spat, but didn't. Selwyn, and Malfoy, had left the opening for me to reveal I was there to see Aquilla die, and if I was put under that spotlight, they'd have easy access to their frame of the Muggles, and from them, me. I wouldn't give them the satisfaction so easily, though. I'd repaired the bullet hole in Aquilla's throat after I found out his killer was Warren, and made it look like a case of smoke inhalation had killed Isaac Aquilla, him dying in a heroic act to rescue one of his neighbours.

"Harper was found strung up in his backyard, cruelly and brutally murdered," said Selwyn. I didn't even have the temptation to correct him; despite everything Harper deserved, I'd made his death painless. You're welcome, Malfoy. "Hart was murdered out on assignment, just yesterday morning. Nobody seems to want to talk about exactly what assignment he was on, but news has reached me, and if it's reached me, it has reached the Minister, and the Ministry, and the Chief Warlock, and... So on, and so forth." He leaned forward and steepled his fingers together. "And nobody's talking about it. The Wizengamot's in chaos because nobody wants to discuss anything, and because the implications behind both deaths do not shine favourably on a certain faction aiming to push this disclosure bill in our faces."

"And the time the Chief Warlock gave for the rebuilding, what was your issue regarding that?" Barnabus Cuffe questioned. "Do you deny that the rebuilding process should not have been a focus?"

"I know I don't," said Parkinson. "Of course it's important. But it goes back to the Ministry, who this body tries so hard to work with, and not against. We were all promised Ministry protection in these final days, to prevent incidents like Harper's and Hart's. Harper was taken from his lunch in the pub he frequented every day, held at wandpoint, marched back to his home and killed. Hart was killed on _Ministry assignment_. Meanwhile, Robards puts too much into a rebuilding, and tries to keep everyone focused on that issue."

"And not the most important one," Malfoy chipped in. "The issue of who attacked The Burrows in the first place."

"Because it goes back to the Wizengamot," Selwyn added. "To this disclosure bill. Minister Robards, and our own Chief Warlock, are trying to distract us, delay us. And why?" He looked directly at me. "I haven't the truth on hand, but I have theories. Healer Potter, do you have your own theories?"

"Theories and conjecture are nothing to nobody right now," Susan said forcefully, cutting off what I was going to say - it involved Selwyn, his mother, and a pine cone. "The Ministry's official position on the attackers of The Burrows is that they are unknown."

"They were running around in black cloaks, after all," said Neville. "Burning homes from a distance and firing spells into the panicked people, herding them into their own deaths elsewhere."

"Sounds familiar," Patil murmured.

"No white masks?" Boot whispered to Diggory, who snorted down a laugh.

"So why doesn't the Minister focus his efforts on this task?" Selwyn asked pointedly. "Director Stark, what say you? Is the Ministry going to continue to delay and not get to the bottom of those threatening the wizarding world?"

Stark cleared his throat noisily. "In fact -"

"Let me stop you right there," said Selwyn, holding up a hand. "Need I remind the Wizengamot that this is another vital meeting the Minister has not shown up to? He sends a lackey. To the most important body of wizards and witches in the world now. The ones deciding the fates of the remains of _civilisation_."

There were more nods in the group than I would've wanted to see. Those that weren't nodding were frowning, except for Selwyn, who was wearing a smug look, and Malfoy, whose face was blank. Stark was looking displeased, I'll note, and I wasn't feeling much better.

Gale was right about them going after Robards, that much was obvious, and going after Ogden at the same time made sense; they were both allies, and more than that, they were _my_ allies. It was all well-known, because I was the Boy-Who-Lived, and when the Boy-Who-Lived plants a political flag, it gets noticed. It all went back to me, but lambasting Robards wasn't the main course, no, but an appetiser.

So I knew what was coming next.

"There are a lot of accounts of the event that night," Selwyn said. "Some of us were even there when it happened." Again, he looked at me pointedly, and the other heads on the Wizengamot swivelled my way as well. I just glared at nothing. "Since the Ministry does not seem to want to own up to the truth, I shall. To the other members of this body that also know what I'm about to say... You should feel ashamed for keeping it to yourselves, whatever your reasons. Ministry loyalty, to avoid damaging your disclosure bill... This is about right and wrong. And hiding that the attackers of The Burrows were _Muggles_ is _wrong_."

The hall took a great intake of breath. There it was. Brutal didn't cover it, and Selwyn wasn't done yet. I could almost _feel_ Malfoy's tone of voice dripping off the words coming out the man's mouth. A lot of words followed.

"... the descriptions of the Mr Pressley's wound match those that would be caused by this Muggle weapon, known as a 'shotgun'. Furthermore -"

"Of course, there are several charms that could replicate the sound, and I learnt that the Department of Magical Law Enforcement had three experts go over some memories collected in a Pensieve..."

"- and the undead themselves were wearing Muggles clothes, and appeared to be particularly fresh. I don't mean to imply that they were made just for the attack, but -"

And finally, when he was done, he declared, "All this evidence, all these signs! The Ministry's known, but have kept it quiet. I myself only learnt from an anonymous wizard who has also been trying to get the _Prophet _to print these truths, only to be stopped by who? Gawain Robards and his Ministry of Magic!"

I snorted.

Yeah, I couldn't help it.

"Do you deny my reasoning, Healer Potter?" Selwyn asked, and beside him, Malfoy watched me carefully.

I looked them both in the eyes and spoke in a firm tone. "The portkeys? The Everlasting Fire? The fact the cloaked men wore cloth that protected them from spells? If those three things were the work of Muggles, I'll be fucking amazed."

"You're saying the attackers _weren't_ Muggles?" demanded Smith. "After everything we've just heard?"

"There's always more to the story. It's been on the minds of everyone here, even as Selwyn's been talking." I pushed myself from my chair and walked to the vacant front area of the hall. "Susan Bones, a well-respected member of the DMLE, would happily back these statements up, but I'll tell you all what I saw when I was there, fighting to save as many as I could. The portkeys were used to unleash the undead in the market square, and to give the attackers an escape route when they escaped the ward boundary. The Everlasting Flames were contained in bottles for easy use. The cloaks would've been enchanted separately."

"Now we get to it," Burke said.

"The wizard element to the attack," finished Selwyn, shaking his head. "I always knew we would be discussing that, but I felt the need to get the truth about the Muggles out first. Our own kind attacked our own kind. In times like these, a hundred lost lives in an attack like that is tragic."

"Such things have to be gotten to the bottom of, shouldn't they?" I said, crossing my arms. "Susan, if you will?"

"When you look at an attack target, you think about why it was chosen," she said. "The Burrows had a lot of people, and a lot to lose. Let's consider the mindsets of our attackers for the moment. Hogsmeade and Hogwarts are too well guarded, so they wouldn't be viable targets. Out of the three options, they chose The Burrows. Not Fairlane or Godric's Hollow. Why? It all goes back, and back, and into a great chain of events. The Muggles, if it was truly Muggles and not simply a conspiracy to make it seem as such, received wizarding assistance in their acts. They knew exactly how to cripple The Burrows - such an attack required time. Creating Everlasting Flame and those cloaks? More time, more planning. It's all for a plot, and the plotters are those that would benefit from the attack the most. The Muggles, and again, we cannot be entirely sure because nobody captured one, could have been under the Imperius to make those eyewitness accounts more valid, and credible."

"What are you implying?" Selwyn asked.

I decided to handle this one. "Those that would benefit the most happen to sit in this very hall, and they don't want the disclosure bill to pass. They use the Muggles, they push them into this attack. Maybe how they use them is a whole angle. Think of Liliford, and of the supply runs, and the stories we heard about the good fortune both towns found themselves in - the magically good fortunes. Why not have them attack Fairlane? Because what they see as the best of the best live there. Why not have them attack Godric's Hollow? Because The Burrows has Muggles, and other people a pureblood agenda wouldn't want around. Not ever."

"A chain of events," Neville echoed. "It's all conjecture, we know as much, but doesn't it make some sense, to some of you? Take the moment to think."

And the moment passed. People were nodding and frowning again, but with people I wanting to make think about this conspiracy. Malfoy's side was remarkably blank-faced.

That was what I wanted to see. Right there.

"But you're forgetting Harper, and Hart." Malfoy, of course. Accept no substitutes. I braced myself for anything and everything; the Statute, Archie... "The Minister works to not explore their deaths. Especially Auror Hart's. It's been a day, but that doesn't change facts. He was on assignment in the Muggle town in Granford, and killed in his bed." He paused to let that sink in for a moment. "_There_. With that and the details of The Burrows attack hidden from us, the Wizengamot, and beyond us, to the public, how can that be considered a good thing in any fashion? It only benefits one side of this debate, and that's yours, Harry Potter. You bring forth a conspiracy that paints the dissenters of your bill as masterminds, out of what? Fear of the fact that what we say is, in fact, the truth? Or is it resentment from the war? The war was so, _so_, long ago, and it has to be let go."

Malfoy stood up from his chair, and at Ogden's signal, I retreated back to mine. Not willingly, trust me, but dammit, my blood was boiling as Malfoy took over the Wizengamot in front of my eyes.

Any reply died in my throat. There was something _strange_ going on.

"The conspiracy idea he and his allies have presented would make Mad-Eye Moody proud. Allow me to try and present my own hypothesis. Harry Potter wants to save the Muggles from their fates. He can't take them under the wizarding world's wing illegally, so he goes through the Wizengamot, and presents a bill to disclose magic and break the Statute of Secrecy. All to save lives out of a misguided attempt to be like Albus Dumbledore. But those lives? They don't want to be saved. The Muggles are destructive and scared, their world completely lost, with their technology and their civilisation rendered into dust and ashes. Magic willed out and survived! The world, for us, went on. But no, no, Healer Potter can't accept that. So he sets off a chain of events to benefit him, but needs to succeed, so sacrifices a few people along the way, and makes some hard decisions."

Malfoy paced in front of us, posture sharp in an unnervingly direct fashion. "We all know he's not afraid to make these decisions. The war alone... Regardless, if he sets it up correctly, he can push the Muggles to an attack, supply them with the tools, use his connection with the Minister to buy more time and set up more events to benefit himself - he kills off Harper and then sacrifices Hart to gain more sympathy for his side. _There_. That's the conspiracy I'm presenting. It's no less circumstantial, and angled towards somebody who opposes me than his opinions are opposed against mine." He chuckled to himself. "Don't you all see how we can overcomplicate a situation like this one? It doesn't have to be so complex, not at all. That being said, I believe Healer Potter's comments are because he's losing. Nobody likes to lose, and if some wizards believe they're pushed into a corner, they will act, and not react. Act with force, with poisonous words."

Well. He wasn't _wrong_, just a bastard.

"This discussion has lingered too long," Draco Malfoy declared. "The attack on The Burrows should highlight exactly how skewed our focus has been, not to mention how the Ministry is reacting... The whole world has to be saved, preserved, but we should be coming first. Wizards and witches. There are issues for the future, with the winter and the Dementors, that need to be dealt with now. We tried. I'm glad we did, because when the vote is called and the disclosure bill becomes little more than a figment of an idea, it will have been done in such the traditional way. A way we can all respect, even if we don't all like it. So, with that in mind, I, once again, call for the final vote to be in the next meeting."

"Seconded," Marco Bulstrode said.

"Thirded," Selwyn added.

"I concur as well," Cuffe put in, and wasn't that just the cherry on top?

Ogden nodded regally. "Your call for a vote has been so noted, and will be considered henceforth to resolve this issue within the next few meetings -"

"No," Draco interrupted.

The age lines on Ogden's face hardened. "Excuse me, Malfoy?"

"I said no, because you haven't been listening," he replied evenly. "With all due respect, the vote has been called for the next meeting. As it was in the previous meeting, and need I remind you of the signed petition? Not only that, but you have been receiving my letters, and the letters of my allies, correct? Ignorance is not a card for the Chief Warlock to play."

"What are you saying, man?" MacMillan said sharply, his large hands twitching on his lap.

Malfoy shrugged, but didn't turn. His body was pointed towards Ogden now. "I am noting that it seems the Chief Warlock may not be performing his duty in a correct manner." His gaze went to me. "I wonder why. It's Wednesday, and the initial meeting was called for Sunday. A major attack, and we wait four days to talk about it. Four days. A travesty, to say the least, but this isn't the first time. We waited a week after Liliford's loss to discuss it. A _week_."

"I'll say," Selwyn agreed. "This is the sort of offence that does not end well for most Chief Warlocks."

"This meeting is adjourned," Ogden said crisply.

"And it might just be your last," said Burke. Again, he seemed to laugh at his own subtle dig before clarifying. "When the _Prophet _catches wind of this, how long will it be before your resignation is called for? I would hope you'd give it more thought than this vote."

In his seat, Cuffe's face was studiously blank.

"The meeting is adjourned," MacMillan said with force, standing from his chair. "The Chief Warlock has called it, and we are to be dismissed."

Burke just looked at him as if in challenge.

Before a brawl could start, Malfoy stepped forward, shot his ally a look, and offered his hand to MacMillan. Up on the high table, Ogden pushed himself out of the throne, murmured something to Stark, and swept out of the hall just as the Ritual of Shaking Hands begun.

My allies were as pleasant as they could be about it. Boot told me to keep my chin up and say hello to Terry. Brown and Patil made references to the potential blackmail they covered up successfully, with Brown cheerily noting that he didn't go to all that work just to get screwed over by the other side. Amos affirmed his support for me, and invited me for dinner sometime. It was only when it came to Cuffe that I said something.

"Don't do it," I told him. "Don't use the _Prophet to _destroy us. I know you want your truth, but... You'll have two sides playing you to tell _their_ truth. It's up to you, Cuffe."

He eyed me seriously. "Am I to ignore the fact that Robards wants to suppress me? Malfoy and his people are being _much_ more forthcoming."

"But what about you?" I asked. "What keeps _you_ going, Cuffe? Will you be able to live with yourself if the Muggles all end up dead?"

He released our handshake; the ring on his finger glinted in my vision. "The truth," he replied simply.

"I don't believe that. I've seen your office; it's empty of personal belongings, photos or whatever, but you're wearing a wedding ring." Cuffe moved his hand away, as if to hide the ring, and I found myself smirking. "It's amazing the way we change when we lose somebody. Almost like we act different, completely different, because there's no one to ground us. No one at -"

"This has gone on long enough," he said coldly. "Have a pleasant day, Healer Potter."

When the hall was empty of all but myself, Neville and Susan, I cursed to myself, "_Fuck_." The word echoed from the walls to the ceiling, and I began to pace. "That got out of control pretty quickly, didn't it? We knew, we _knew_, they would paint us as paranoid. George Weasley of all people made a joke about us looking crazy, right after the attack. But that push... It could've been worse. That's the problem. It could've been much worse. It's almost like he was glossing over it, like he didn't want me to do something big, like call in the life debt in the middle of a meeting."

"They're saving for more," Neville said quietly, face pensive. "But they threatened Ogden outright -"

"And with Hart's death we know they can back up their threats," Susan said sadly.

"And Malfoy!" I exclaimed. "I've seen him like that before, but damn, the Wizengamot hadn't. All those words, and he was good. It was almost as if... It was strange, to hear him push like that."

"What's changed since last time?" Neville asked. "He's got us on the outs and he's going for the kill."

"But Harry thought he was redeemable in some way," Susan said. "That he could use Malfoy in some way, or even use his wife..."

I shook my head in negative. "I learnt right after the attack he's not redeemable, and it's only gotten worse since then. This is something else."

"This was after you visited him?" Neville clarified. "Then he's probably acting like this because he knows that you know he's completely in their camp. He could've been stringing you along."

"Maybe, but..." There was something in his mood, in his tone, that I couldn't identify. Something had changed, and it wasn't just because I killed Harper. I could feel that something had changed, and not just with him; I remembered Meadowes, and why Hart was killed... Malfoy's had the entire year to plan, but if there was something he couldn't predict... The only person that would possibly pick up if he was in a strange mood would be his wife. He did a pretty good job at guarding her from his activities, but a strange incident or behaviour might've leaked through. Astoria could help me there.

"We've got nothing from the Everlasting Fire," I declared. "I doubt I'll get anything from the poison they used on Ogden. I'm visiting Malfoy this afternoon, and he'll be expecting. I don't know what's going to happen. Maybe I'll kill him. Maybe I'll slink away with my tail between my legs, again. I'll have to try. First, I'm going to head back to Granford and do a quick errand. Neville, you coming with?"

He begged off, sharing a look with Susan and telling me that he'll take some time to manage a few of the members, and Ogden, and I let him go. Granford was waiting.

..::..-.-..::..

When I got back, Granford was in the middle of preparing for the coming winter. It was hard to say the winter was coming given the weather - skin-bitingly cold with brisk winds and grey clouds hanging in the air; it felt like it was already here. The townspeople were out in force, packed in the centre of town and coordinating with those chosen to inventory everyone's supplies. Equal distribution on rations was key when it came down to it, and most of the drama came from those unwilling to part with some of their supplies without compromise of some kind. Fortess was around to stop any arguments, his well-tuned knack for his people leading to peaceful resolutions every time. But, there was still a lot of work to be done, and I slipped into the crowd and jumped to help Stanthorpe and Leeson by shuffling inventory lists from the outside into the town hall, where Ernie was busy doing his thing.

Ron appeared beside me as I left the hall for the eleventh time that hour. "Terry's watching the station," he informed me, the words muffled by the dark scarf covering the bottom of his face. "How did things go with the Wizengamot?"

"Badly," I replied lowly. "You been keeping an eye on Meadowes?"

He nodded, and we were quiet for a moment as a group of men walked by, burdened by several crates of grain. "How long will you be back for?"

"Not long, just gotta give him his gold."

"Right." He nodded again. "And there was one more thing..."

I guessed, "Nott?"

"He was calling for you again, Harry."

I went quiet at that, and although the pull was powerful, the urge to see why he of all people wanted to speak to me, I knew it would end badly. Ron and I watched the Muggles work for a silent minute. Near the town hall, I noticed Ellie, Amaris and Gladys Ogden all bunched up near Abe and Strauss as the former handed his inventory checks over. "They shouldn't be out like this," I said. "It makes them a target, and -"

Ron shrugged. "Strauss has their back, and Su's nearby. 'Sides, nobody will try anything in open daylight like this."

"And if something happens?" After Hart, I couldn't be too sure of anything like that, and when I scanned the area, I couldn't find Su anywhere - that meant she was around and doing her unassuming thing. Doing it very well if you'd ask me.

"Just don't blame yourself," Ron advised. "I should go keep an eye."

_Oh trust me, Ron, I know who'd be to blame, _I thought as Ron left. And when all of this comes to a head and the dust settles, I intend for Hart's death - and for the deaths that came before - to be very much avenged.

I found Meadowes soon enough, and after making sure Juliet wasn't hovering nearby, I approached him.

"Your payment." I fished out the black silk bag from my pocket and handed it over. I had added Susan's gold to Gale's, and it made for a heavy bag. Meadowes's first act was, true to form, to look inside, and he frowned.

"There's less in here than what I usually get paid," he said.

"But you're going to accept it anyway, aren't you?" I asked with a false smile and a gesture with my wrist, where my wand was strapped in its holster.

Sourly, Meadowes stalked off, and with that out of the way, it was time to go to Malfoy Manor.

The crowd of Muggles cataloguing their lives in order to survive the coming winter still at it, and would be into the night. I was trying to surreptitiously slip through one side of the main square to head towards the town's exit when Ellie caught up with me, grabbing my arm and saying, "Harry. Is everything okay?"

I tried, and failed, to smile reassuringly at her. "Yeah, well, eventually. Are you doing okay out here? I know you probably don't want to hear it, but it is safer that we keep you and your family at Abe's."

She shrugged, as if expecting a comment like that and knowing better than to argue with me when I got to worrying. "I'm trying to think about it, at all. I know it sounds stupid, but we're helping out here, even if we're not actually going to be here much longer..." She left the statement hanging; did she mean that they'd be moved out of Granford, or murdered like Hart was? "It's good to help. I've, uh, been helping Stanthorpe run lists back and forth, and I know it's not much, but I get that feeling you described. Having little victories in the midst of everything else. Locked up for a year in that cottage, and this is so different, and so much better, so I can't help it."

"That's good to hear," a deep voice said, Aaron Fortess announcing his presence. Ellie looked up at him, just looked, not saying a word. Given what I'd told her about the situation here after Hart's death, she had come up upon a moment where she didn't know how to react.

Luckily, I was there, and the encounter with Juliet yesterday had already set me up to be careful around Fortess. "She's just looking to help, same as the rest of us," I said.

"Indeed." Fortess's gaze, blank and not revealing anything about anything, went from me to Ellie. "The winter supply inventories are chaotic in nature, but if we go into the winter without them, the next few months will be pure hell. Last year, we were all still recovering from the outbreak - people were losing hope, people were hanging themselves daily, and... There was nothing to unite them, to give them hope to push past the uncertainty of the cold and the dark winter that struck us."

"But they still pushed," I told Ellie, but I very much wanted Fortess to hear too. "Because ultimately, we're all human. We make mistakes like everyone else, and nobody's perfect, but we have that instinct to survive, to thrive in situations like the winter."

"It's been the same for years and years, and the outbreak's only added to it," said Fortess. "It's brought back that fear of the unknown again."

"But the best way to fight that is to do whatever you can. Everybody has a part in that scheme of things, and they do what they do to make a civilisation survive the winter. They save people, heal the sick, feed the hungry, give warmth to the cold. Survival, for all of us, is the most important thing now. The world's ended, and there has to be some of us around to see the world begin anew." I met Fortess's cool, dark, eyes steadily. "Preferably, it would be _all_ of us, not just some, who make it out."

"Were it so easy," Fortess murmured. "With absent friends, it becomes harder and harder to stay so united - Liliford, Maple... But we, those who survive, do all have our parts to play." He tore his scrutinising gaze from mine and tipped his head to Ellie. "Miss Ogden, you're welcome to however much you want to pitch in. Granford is always looking for those willing to help us survive."

There had been enough veiled comments between me and Fortess in this conversation, and my next statement was much more direct. "We can only hope that Granford chooses the right course of action, and sees the truth of things. Before the winter kills us all."

"We can only hope," Fortess echoed, never looking back at me. "Miss Ogden..." For a moment, I expected a comment about Hart's death. A taunt, a veiled reference to the fact we covered it up and hadn't explained it away yet. Then I realised that Fortess, despite whatever influence he was under, wasn't _that_ kind of person, and wasn't going to be cruel over somebody's death like that. "Do not exhaust yourself. I'll make room for breaks later on, understand? Everyone should be at their best in this."

Ellie nodded cautiously, a quizzical little frown on her face as she watched the man go. The frown only increased as she looked at me. "Harry, what was that about?"

My thoughts were racing. He didn't comment on Hart. He almost seemed... I couldn't put my finger on it, and a strange idea struck me. Lucas, Fortess and Malfoy all had been acting strange, but of the three, there was only one that I hadn't confronted today.

"It's nothing," I assured Ellie, though it really wasn't.

I told her I'd see her later, and left her, Fortess and the rest of Granford behind. I crossed the Old Bridge under a Disillusionment Charm, and at the first opportunity I prepared myself to apparate.

Draco Malfoy would have my answers, come hell or high water.

In my hand, my wand was heavy with power, and warm with familiarity. I had a feeling I was very much going to need it.

..::..-.-..::..

_To Be Continued in Chapter Thirteen: Inescapable..._

..::..-.-..::..

Post-Chapter Notes:

_- Next Chapter Tease ::_ Harry walks into Malfoy Manor, and somebody doesn't make it out alive.

_- Wizengamot Scorecard ::_

- _Pro-Disclosure_ :: Harry, Neville, Susan, Boot, Brown, Patil, Diggory, Gale.

- _Anti-Disclosure_ :: Malfoy, Parkinson, Bulstrode, Selwyn, Burke.

- _Swing Votes_ :: MacMillan, Smith, Zabini, Cuffe.

- _Former Members ::_ Bill Weasley (Resigned), Isaac Aquilla (Dead), Hoster Harper (Dead), Artemis Hart (Dead).

- _Member Count ::_ Seventeen.

- _Status ::_ No longer evenstalled.

Thanks for reading!

..::..-.-..::..


	13. Chapter Thirteen: Inescapable

_Standard Disclaimer_ :: All things Harry Potter belong to JK Rowling and affiliates. This fanfiction is a non-profit venture written for the enjoyment of myself and my readers.

_Dedication :: _To Seratin, Lutris, Zeitgeist, Vira and my friends from DLP, for putting up with my insanity, for reading early drafts, and just being there. Also, to all those who reviewed/favourited/alerted me or my story here on FFnet, cheers. Props to DLP for the feedback, too - anyone reading this who hasn't devoured their C2 on this very site must do so now. It's the first community on the list, for a damn good reason, and I'm more than happy to have this story a part of it too.

_Preface :: _Apologies for the minor delay, apparently FFnet decided it didn't want anyone to log in for twelve hours. Anyway, I'll always value this chapter. A lategame "make or break" one and a long-awaited showdown makes for fun writing. Might be a tad polarising as things take their turn, but it's always been apart of the plan.

_Previously :: _On the previous chapter, Harry and his friends were quick to figure out the man behind Hart's murder was Malfoy's spy Lucas Meadowes, and after a confrontation, the man was paid off and bound to Harry's orders, kept alive for the time being. In the leadup to the Wizengamot meeting, Grey Gale affirmed to Harry that his vote for was his, Susan reconciled her distaste for Harry's recent actions over a want to no longer fight about it, and Tiberius Ogden revealed his own hope is dwindling into nothing. In the meeting itself, the Minister and Harry's side were called out as nothing more than paranoid and deliberately trying to keep the vote from going forward, and Draco Malfoy's quick words in an almost desperate brutality tipped Harry off that something strange had occurred for Malfoy. After paying off Lucas what he was owed, Harry and Ellie had an encounter with Fortess, full of veiled comments about the state of things and Harry's hope that Fortess is making the right decisions. With that out of the way, the time has come for Harry to confront Malfoy and lay everything out on the table...

..::..-.-..::..

_Chapter Thirteen of Sixteen: Inescapable_

..::..-.-..::..

Astoria answered the door, and I drank in the sight of her for a long moment. It had barely been two days since I'd seen her last, but it felt far, far, longer. Her hair was swept back in a lazy ponytail, her blue eyes were cloudy with a lack of sleep, and her dress was thick and coloured white and green, the closest thing to casual she probably ever wore. Dammit, she looked good, and a baser impulse took over as I stepped forward, gathered her in my arms and leaned into her. She moved at the same time, drawn just as I was, and we kissed for a long moment in the doorway to Malfoy Manor.

She, very reluctantly, pulled away first, disengaging from my grip as she did. "Harry, he's home," she said, as if just realising. No regret or guilt flashed on her face; just fear. "Draco's home."

"I was banking on it, actually," I said, reaching out with my hand to at least keep some contact with her. Over her shoulder I could see the foyer of Malfoy Manor, with its ancestral statue heads and the portraits, yet no sign of her husband. "He's in his study?"

Astoria's head shook from side to side in negative.

"Then where is he?"

"The parlour, and there's... something else."

Her tone made me pause. "How are you?" I asked. "How've you been?"

She gave me a confused sort-of look, no doubt wondering why I was ignoring the fact Draco was nearby, and there was _something_ _else _to apparently be worrying about. "Fine, I've been fine, I guess," she replied. Her pretty face became marred with a frown. "I mean, Draco's most recent acquisitions in the study ate Trippy, one of my house elves. It was just quick, apparently. But apart from that, I've been... wondering when you'd be back next, honestly."

"And here I am," I said, smiling softly. "I have one more question."

"Hmm?"

"Can Draco hear us from the parlour?"

"If we make enough noise, yes." The frown evaporated off her face, and she smiled coyly, to break the tension. "Are you proposing we do something that's quiet? Something... special?"

_That_ made me smile even wider. "Can I come in?" Astoria nodded and stepped aside, and I walked into the foyer. It looked the same as before, but I could've sworn... Did one of the portraits move? "I'm sorry, by the way."

"For what?"

"Any particular attachment you may have to one of the marble Malfoy heads." I flicked my wand up, and the one in the far corner lifted off its pedestal, hovering there for a moment. "I need to make a really big noise to get your husband's attention. Start with a bang, and all."

A jet of dark light swept up underneath the head, and a small gale of air swallowed it up and took over control from my Hover Charm. I twirled my wand and brandished it in a quick motion, directing the head towards the study door on the right side of the room. The spell took care of the rest. The tornado swirled and spat the head at the door with a loud _thump _noise, caught it before it hit the ground, spat it up again, caused another _thump_, and repeated the process three more times. On the fifth strike, the head finally shattered, an outward explosion of shards of marble smashing off the door, imbedding some shards into the surrounding wall while the rest spewed out onto the carpet, spreading out near mine and Astoria's feet, but never hitting us thanks to a conjured shield.

If _that_ didn't get his attention, I don't know what would.

Draco Malfoy's voice called out from ahead, muted by the big double doors underneath the balcony; those doors led to the dining room, and beyond that was the parlour. "You did receive those missives, did you not? One from St Mungo's, revoking your status as my personal Healer, not to mention suspending you from legally practising for another fortnight. The other from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, disbanding your little role to check up on me for reasons of abuse of power. So, did you get them?"

I had, via Susan in the dropbox, learnt of their existence yesterday. With Hart's death, I honestly couldn't care less. It was a petty little move that Malfoy would no doubt use against me in the Wizengamot, but there were more important things on the line than technicalities. Besides, I didn't come here expecting to be shuffled out so easily.

"I'm here to talk, Malfoy," I called back. "I'm calling in the life debt."

That got the doors to open, gliding along the ground and revealing Draco, who looked as he always did. Tall, pale-haired and paler-faced, his wrist angled down and his wand pointed lazily at my chest region. I almost smirked at the wand; it was once mine for a few months during the war, and part of the deal Draco made to aid in arresting his fellow Death Eaters, including his father, included getting his wand back. I wondered for a moment if I still had its allegiance or not.

I tightened the grip on my own wand. Let's find out, shall we?

"We'll talk in the parlour," Malfoy said.

"We really won't," I returned. "We'll have it out right here. I'm going to call this debt."

"But I have a guest for you to see," he said with a tiny, knowing, smirk. "Come along. Astoria, you as well."

The bastard turned his back on me, and I considered cursing it for a moment before realising it would probably be a futile gesture; he'd have a protective enchantment in his robes, knowing my luck. And since I needed him alive to call the debt, I just shared a look with Astoria before we headed forward.

We crossed the dining room, a rectangular-shaped room large enough to fit an opulent table made of a dark, strong, wood and covered in silver, the chairs surrounding it almost thrones of a similar build, elaborately carved with snakes on the headrest. Portraits and another set of marble busts took up the walls and corners, and a large window showing the back of the garden and the hills beyond the boundary line took up the far wall. Draco's footsteps led us to the right side of the room, where an open doorway took us to a stubby little hallway, with just enough room for two more Malfoy ancestor portraits on each wall, and at the end of the passage was the parlour. The room was warm brown in colour, with dark, plush, furniture - a couch with its back to us - and four chairs, all centred around a crystal tea table, where three glasses of bubbling Firewhiskey sat. A handwoven tapestry of a bloody battle in a grassy field took up the rest of the wall.

The room was occupied when we got near, with Draco standing at the far wall, leaning on a wooden cabinet with glass doors displaying the bottles inside, and with a familiar head of hair sitting on the couch.

Malfoy shifted his weight off the cabinet, keeping his wand pointed at me. "Healer Potter, you remember Grey Gale, I assume?"

My insides froze, and Gale was similarly frozen on his chair; he didn't even turn. I walked in, and Astoria trailed behind me. I stood next to the couch, within cursing distance of Malfoy, and glanced aside at Gale. He avoided my gaze, his dark hair hanging over his eyes, and I turned my focus back on Malfoy. "What is this?" I asked with venom.

"Grey, my wife, and I were enjoying an afternoon meeting when you so rudely interrupted," Malfoy said. "Believe it or not, I do have _other_ matters to attend to in my life."

He had to have known; there was no way this wasn't a coincidence. I tried not to seem too interested in Gale being there, for his own safety. Instead, I shrugged. "As long as you're sure you want somebody to see you lose control..."

"Oh, I won't. Are you truly here to call in the debt?" Malfoy asked, smirking. "I should warn you that I've been hurt before, Potter."

"Not as badly as you will be when all of this is done," I said coolly. "Eager to lose that little debt to me, are you? I can imagine how that would hang over you. All this planning, all this time, the stakes at their highest... and I have an advantage over you. I didn't even see how badly you wanted to be out of that debt. I'm actually a little impressed on how well you hid it... at first. Kind of got obvious after The Burrows attack."

"By the look on your face, you seem to understand quite a bit more than the last time we spoke like this." Draco's eyes flickered to his wife, moving around to the side of the room next to Gale; just flickered, with no change in expression or anything. He didn't ask her to go. This was just acknowledging to me that she was here, and like with Gale, he didn't care if she heard whatever he was about to say. "You put the pieces together, is that it? Or will you be calling in that debt to confirm it?"

"I heard from a friend."

His eyebrows raised. "Oh?"

"I didn't need it all laid out for me, of course, but after I heard about some things, it did make a certain amount of sense," I said. "But I would like to hear it from the source."

"And this friend?" he questioned. "You didn't happen to string him up in his own backyard, did you? Say, a few days ago?"

"The situation sounds familiar, but _he_ had nothing to say. Oh, except... No, it's much too vulgar." I tipped my head to Astoria. "Wouldn't want to repeat it in front of your lady wife."

"Funny as always," Draco said dryly. "And you have my thanks for revealing your part in Harper's death. Not knowing or even having a clue like that was a terrible burden on my mind. I can't imagine what it feels like, being clueless. You seem to know, so if you wouldn't mind sharing..."

"You're a regular comedian yourself. It's taken me a bit, but I've gained a few clues. Your man Meadowes was nice enough to confess his part in The Burrows attack and killing Hart."

"From what I understand, both incidents have Muggle filth all over them." He reached up with his left hand and stroked his chin thoughtfully. "So you're saying its _not_ the Muggles's fault? Huh. Hey Gale, is this news to you as well?"

Gale winced, but said nothing.

"Oh shut up and leave him alone," I snapped. "Nott's madder than your Dark Lord was, but he had a lot to say." Malfoy's hand dropped from his chin, and his thoughtful look went with. I plowed on, "I didn't want to hear half of it, but it definitely helped me focus. I know you're behind every move, every opportunity awarded by The Dementor's Stigma. I even figure you helped destroy the Ministry, and might've even pushed certain people into certain actions that nearly got me killed in St Mungo's - however you pushed them, I don't care. That you were responsible for the deaths of Johannsen Hunt, Hermione Granger... _Sarah_, and so many others, I do care about. Very much." I tensed my shoulders, and bent my knees slightly, ready for action. "But that's the past. Let's talk about the present."

"Indeed. Let us start by how little you truly know."

I snorted with incredulousness. "Even as I claim to have figured out your part since the beginning? Please, Draco, don't condescend just because we have an audience. Nott told me about how you knew about Voldemort's experiments. Shame your man's not smart enough to keep his mouth shut, or too mad to understand orders."

Draco said nothing, his expression unreadable. Out of all the people to hear such things from, I doubt he expected I'd get it all out of Nott. One point to me.

"Where were we?" I asked. "Oh right, the present. The Wizengamot's lost a few people, I've noticed. Bill's retirement pushed an evenstall, but of course you had a plan for that. She's standing right beside me."

Draco's eyes flickered back to his wife again, and when I turned to look, I saw Astoria caught in both of our gazes with some measure of disbelief; not enough to deny what she was hearing, but enough to be processing it, to be thinking about what both of us were saying. I only hoped I was painting a good enough picture of Draco the complete monster.

"Aquilla's death was an accident, but a happy one," I continued. "Astoria didn't get her seat like she wanted, like you wanted, but the evenstall was broken either way. But when Harper tripped and fell off that tree and hung himself -" Draco didn't even snort at that. "- the opportunity was there for you to fill the open Wizengamot slot with the seat your wife brought to the table. One very nice, if over-the-top, threat to Ogden later, and you're all ready for it... Presently, you screwed your wife, again, by killing Hart. My question is why?"

"Why?" he echoed. "You calling your life debt on that one?"

"Oh no, but I will if you get defensive about it." I cast my gaze back at Astoria, making sure Malfoy didn't see the apologetic look I shot her. "While Nott told me enough to plant the idea you're the mastermind, it's how you fuck over your own wife that truly makes me see. And her too. She'll see right now. Even if you don't answer the question, she'll ask it." And I didn't need to be in a relationship with her in order to get her aid in taking down Malfoy for good. That was part of the reason for my visit today; I was getting her out of here. Telling the story of Sarah's death to Ellie a few nights back had reminded me just how much losing her hurt, and I wasn't about to have the same happen to Astoria. At the end of the day, Draco might still have the Wizengamot, and be on top of things in Granford, but this time I was here for something personal, for both of us.

Malfoy gave me his best sneer. "You think I'd want my wife in the spotlight on the Wizengamot after you killed one of us already?"

"You know I was friends with her, and you think I'd honestly kill her just to read you of a vote and to spite you?"

"There was still a chance, wasn't there?" Draco shook his head. "And need I remind you of the company you keep? Ron Weasley, for example, has become quite unstable following his own girlfriend's death, and he's always had an issue with being your lackey..."

I let that one slide. "Back to yesterday. So Hart was the next best target?"

"Hart's death looked like it was caused by a Muggle," he said, almost mocking in the way he kept up that charade. Not using the life debt right away had made him relax. Now he was just being a dick about it all.

I laughed incredulously. "Yeah, glad I didn't waste the life debt on that one. Nice lie, really. You've only proved my point about being a manipulative little bastard. Astoria's a pawn to you, and she always has been. When her father offered her to you in exchange for some gold, you took her as your wife for one reason only: she had a seat on the Wizengamot if you needed it, a vote down the line. You're saying you killed Hart because of her safety after Harper's death? It was your idea to get her seat in the first place! Your whole marriage has been this lie!"

"And your newfound friendship with her isn't?" Draco retorted. "Don't deny you've become... close. To your advantage, probably."

"There's no plan from me, not when I'm just trying to counter yours this entire fucking time!" I said fiercely. "Astoria and I have become friends again because that's just how it went." And we became lovers for the same reason, you weasel. "Same as everything else I've done. You've destroyed Liliford, and I'm in Granford to prevent the same happening there. You threaten Ogden's family, you manipulative Aaron Fortess - a _good man_ - into whatever you made him into, you use and abuse your wife, you unleash people like Nott on innocents, and this entire game has to fucking stop. This is it, right here, right now. When I call in the debt, you will choose your side. If you confirm to me what I need to know - what I very much suspect - then I'm writing you off. I could kill you right here, right now... That is, if the debt doesn't kill you first. You better answer the question honestly."

"You better ask the right one," he said challengingly. "The debt will only allow for so much clarification before I can start lying. Make it simple."

"Oh, I will. Trust me, this one goes back to the start of this incline, the answer that will firmly confirm everything. A single part of the chain reaction."

Malfoy took one look at Gale, and then to his wife, before answering with the utmost calm, "By all means then, ask your question. Call your debt."

I had thought long and hard about the question I'd ask. The nature of the debt wouldn't allow something so vague as, "Are you behind of all of this?", and leaving openings like that would allow for lies, or for half-truths that were even more deceptive than lies. As much as I wanted to finally prove to Astoria what a heartless creature she married, I couldn't ask something like, "Do you truly love her?", no. The question had to mean something more than her and me; she'd come around eventually. It had to be a yes or no question, no room for error. _The_ question, the only question.

"I have it," I said clearly.

"Good," he replied. "Astoria." His voice carried in the enclosed space, and her shoulders tensed. My thoughts went to a familiar path of,_ I whispered her name, against her skin, over and over..._ "We'll need somebody to be here, to witness the vow."

I shook my head. "Not her."

"Oh, but who else?"

My eyes darted to Gale. The poor kid looked scared out of his mind. Draco had brought him here for a reason, and was this it? To show Gale that I would choose Astoria's possibly safety over his, to get him to vote against the bill again? Not only that, but I'd be revealing just how much I cared for her by wanting her safe... Damn him.

"Astoria," I said softly, softer than Draco had; it wasn't an order, it was a request. "We'll take care of the spell, you just be there for it."

"Take your wand out," Draco instructed her. "Hold it between ours, don't move, just concentrate on holding it there, no matter what happens. A backfiring vow can kill us all..."

"Only if you don't lie, Draco," I said with a hollow little smile.

She moved slowly as Draco and I did the same. We stood with the crystal tea table between all four of us. Gale remained rooted to the couch on my left, Draco stood in front of me, and Astoria to my right. She pulled her wand from her robes, and brought it between ours.

The first part of the vow was something that required will more than an incantation. It was like the beginning of a promise, to not break the sanctity of the spell, a promise made of orange flame, pouring out our wands and linking around our wrists, coiled snakes of fire dancing on our skin but never burning. The flames licked at Astoria's willow wand's tip, and her face was distant, alien, and she was trying not to look at either of us while the magic of the vow stirred in the air.

There's usually a bunch of words, to confirm the calling of the vow, but we didn't do that. The fire was snaking up Draco's right arm and almost to his shoulder, and he nodded in strained way. "Ask."

And so I did. It started with the day I found a town in mist, with hundreds of lives, nearly a thousand souls, turned into food. The town that started this final push, a culmination of Draco's plans and the beginning of my desperate want to save the rest of the Muggles, even if it killed me. "Were you, Draco Malfoy, responsible for the destruction of Liliford?" I asked. His eyes shimmered, and I took it as a sign to clarify the question. It had to be perfect; the answer would be only have to be one word, and would mean everything. "Were you the one who ordered it? Were you there when its destruction was organised? Were you responsible for the loss of nearly a thousand lives in Liliford, lost to the Dementors and their mist? Did you, Draco Malfoy, directly or indirectly, destroy Liliford?"

Draco's lips moved, but no sound came out. He shook his head. Once. Twice. He tried to speak again. The flames coiled around his neck like a noose. He shook his head a third time.

A single word escaped from his mouth.

"No."

The word hung in the air. The flame from the vow started to recede from his neck, travelling back down his arm. Something inside of me flared, and I pushed, holding onto the moment as long as I could. Astoria began to visibly sweat under the strain, and Gale flinched back in his chair as far away from the flames as he could.

"What the fuck do you mean, _no_?" I said harshly. "Did you Obliviate yourself? Did you wash your hands of this, pretend it never happened until it did? Just for this? And your plans, your little thing with the crops, and how the hell can you say _no_?" The flames began to singe the hairs on my arms. "Are you really going to test the debt like this? The legitimacy -"

"I know the legitimacy, and have known since my mother died, and I know the consequences of lying," Draco said forcefully. "But I am not lying. I did not Obliviate myself; the vow would break through that. I was there when we hatched the plan to make it look like you broke the Statute of Secrecy. I came up with it, after all. I was also there when we planned to destroy the town when it served its purpose. I did not destroy Liliford, nor am I responsible in any other way."

How, _how_, can that be possible?

"Astoria," Draco bit out. "Release us from this."

I snapped, "Just you wait a second -"

"I have fulfilled my end of the debt. You asked your question, and I answered it," Draco said through gritted teeth. "We're done. Release your hold or it will kill us all."

_It would kill Astoria first_, he didn't have to say. I held down my anger, my distrust, my sheer confusion, and pushed my will out of the spell. The flames flickered and flittered into nothing, and for a second, we all just stood, breathing heavily. Astoria looked lost, Gale scared, Draco's face was unreadable, and dammit, I knew I looked bloody angry.

"You liar," I said, even though he couldn't have done this, he couldn't have planned this, to break this -

_He could_, a part of me whispered. _He planned it all, remember? Sarah died because of him, and Astoria..._

"There's no breaking a vow like that, not without death," Draco said quietly, speaking to me like I was almost his equal or something. All that carefree laziness had gone, replaced with something much darker, something I couldn't see. "I didn't do it."

Lying, he's _lying_. He's had the year. _Nott told you, remember_. _Nott told you he knew._ He could've even had longer than the year, right from learning that Voldemort was planning his annihilation of the Muggles. What if he saw it as inevitable, heard about what would happen when the Dementors who ate the remains of Voldemort's experiments bred, somehow, and then planned from there. Anything was possible, and dammit, he -

He lied somehow. I just know it; I'd underestimated him again. _Again_. My one chance, gone. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

And then it happened. He moved with a casual, deadly, grace, walking around the room and behind the couch, his wand carefully trained on me and Astoria. I took an involuntary step back to shield her. It was going to happen, right now, an explosion, a simultaneous reaction. I wanted blood. He looked ready to defend himself to the death. If that's how it was going to go down, then _so be it_.

"Do you know why he's here?" Draco asked silkily, nodding his head to Gale. "Do you?"

"To prove a point," I bit out.

"Haven't proven it yet." He leaned forward, the sleeves of his robes brushing against Gale's head. "This morning Ogden got a letter from me, you should know. That letter contained the resignation of Grey Gale from his seat on the Wizengamot. It wasn't to be announced in the meeting; you weren't to be told, and Gale here only learnt just an hour ago. I had Hart killed to break the evenstall, and Gale's resignation puts us back in even numbers. The next move would be to put my wife in her chair, as intended." His eyes hardened. "You won't get Gale's vote, Potter. I know he approached you, I know he tried to help you. I... do not appreciate betrayal."

A glint of steel flashed from the left sleeve of his robes, and Astoria cried out in sudden alarm.

Draco slashed the hidden knife, quicker than lightning, across Gale's throat, his eyes never leaving mine, his wand pointed at my chest -

An angry red line appeared on Gale's skin, the knife singing as it cut through air, spurting blood in its wake. Dark red blood, bubbling and thick, pouring like a waterfall out of his throat; the blood splashed down Gale's front, onto the couch, the tea table, and onto me, all that I could see. Gale gasped and choked as he drowned in his own blood, bubbling out of his mouth and onto his chin, but Draco wouldn't let him fall forward. He held on with his forearm against Gale's forehead, pressing tightly and with more force than I ever thought he'd show.

His eyes never, ever, left mine, and his wand never wavered as the man died in front of him. Those eyes, cold and fiery, told it all: _This is what happens_, they said, _This is why you shouldn't have tried to test me, to push me. You are nothing, and neither is he. Watch him, watch him die, and know that this will happen again._

_Know that this _will_ happen to _her_._

Gale's eyes dulled, and the last gurgle escaped his lips.

Draco released his hold on the corpse of Grey Gale, and it fell onto the table with a _thunk_, shattering a champagne glass and upending the two others.

Astoria shivered behind me. Gale's blood sprayed on the lower half of her dress, and some splatters hit me as well.

Pure rage hit me, at my own inaction, letting him get into this situation in the first place, just watching him die -

Draco and I acted simultaneously. Our first spells exploded into each other in a shower of bright light, a concussive wave bursting out and shattering the crystal tea table and the glasses atop it. Flying crystals, sparkling blue and white, clouded my vision, and I raised my wand to form a shield. The shield caught the debris and Draco's next spell, and I moved with it, stepping left, stepping right, keeping my body fluid in order to dodge the array of spells coming my way. There was no hesitation in this being a fight, and without much fanfare, it just began. Me pressed against the wall, Astoria ducking down to the ground, Draco at the doorframe.

Gale's murder had pushed things too far.

About damn time I fought the prick.

He stood his ground in unleashing his next spells, firing off three dark jets of light with deadly accuracy. I knew better than to see what the spells would do to me if they hit, so I dodged the first two, using the opportunity with the second to test a shield - it shattered upon impact, sailing past me and obliterating the alcohol cabinet in the corner of the room. After dodging the third spell, I turned my spells on the offensive, pressing my own advantage.

I pushed him back, flicking and swishing my wand, moving forward as he moved back, flashes of light, green and red and purple, burst and fizzled and exploded into the walls, sending chips of stone and brick to the ground. Draco tried to use them, conjuring a little gust of air, but I let it wash over me, my face stinging as one chunk cut across my cheek. I feinted going left before heading right, not eager to jump over Gale's body to get to Draco quicker, and in that moment I caught his side with a stray spell, his shoulder slamming awkwardly against the nearest portrait out in the hall. Soon, I was standing in the doorway and he was back on his feet. No spells, just a moment of stillness.

The moment passed quickly. I moved forward, he moved back. Spells erupted from our wands, matching, equal and opposite, our movements the same. If I dodged left, he dodged right. Bursts of hot, dense, air caught my conjured projectile spikes, and a shield stopped him from being hit by the Trip Jinx that followed. His own volley ended with a familiar jet of black and brown light - Bone-Breaking Curse, a favourite if done right, but easily absorbed by a basic Shield Charm. I was recovering from my shield's destruction when he pressed his wand to the wall, and things just _exploded _in a flare of orange.

The portraits went first, shredded canvases and frames burning off the wall and into my side. The smell of burnt hair filled my nostrils before I realised I had been singed. Something slammed into my side and winded me, and my hand reached out for the wall to support myself -

Only to recoil from the burning portrait, a hot stinging sensation travelling up my entire arm.

I walked forward with my arm hanging limp at my side, but Draco wasn't in my vision. Mocking laughter echoed from up ahead. He wanted me to follow, to walk into a trap of some kind - what was he playing at? Did he want me dead, or humiliated? Was there something I was missing?

I looked back in the bloody and destroyed parlour. Gale...

Astoria emerged, her hair ruffled and her eye black with a nasty bruise, but ultimately alive having survived the crossfire. "Harry," she said. "Don't."

And, despite feeling like there was something inescapable awaiting me, I turned my back on her and went off in pursuit of her husband. For the sake of his answer, his _lie_, and for Gale.

The dining room was quiet, which very rarely boded well. True to form, when I emerged the chairs all sprang to life, dancing off of the ground and propelling themselves towards me, the engravings I'd noticed before looking like spears from this angle. I stepped back into the hallway, and used it as a chokepoint. The chairs, a dozen in all, were disintegrated by my spells, and a few of Astoria's, and when they were nothing but splinters I moved back in the dining room, flinging spells at nothing. I jumped, rolled, and righted myself at the far end, breathing heavily and waiting...

A glint of blood-stained steel flew at my face. I twirled my wand to deflect it, scowling. The knife that killed Gale, and Malfoy... invisible, on the far end of the room. I didn't even have to guess; his next volley of spells made his position clear enough. We moved again, me forward, him back, until we were out of the room and back into the foyer. He shimmered back in existence when a stray spell smacked into his ankle, and his eyes were bloodthirsty as they narrowed at me.

The surge of battle flowing through our veins, the duel turned from what it was to being all about force, matching water to fire and air to more air, pure magic with pure magic. Then there was a flock of conjured and transfigured projectiles whizzing through the air, either matching and destroying their opposite number or scoring hits on the walls and the portraits hanging on them. I came out of that little incident with a long cut on my left, burnt, arm and stinging scratches the side of my neck, while Draco's hair was ruffled, his lip was split, and he was having trouble holding himself up on his right ankle.

Two spells shot out, mine a stroke of blue lightning, his a red, concentrated and thin, beam of light. They collided in mid-air not with each other, but with a solid gold shield shaped like an actual shield, taking both spells with a loud _clang_, not unlike the sound of a ringing bell, and the action temporarily stopped as we both realised Astoria had walked into the middle of this. She was standing in the doorway to the dining room, her wand pointed to the fading shield. I dimly registered that it was _her_ shield, I didn't spend time trying to see the look on her face. I knew it wouldn't be like Sarah's look of horror, but might still be something else I didn't want to see. Malfoy's gaze was on her by the time i aimed my wand...

He caught the first spell, but not the Trip Jinx. He went down in a heap, crying out as his injured ankle hit the floor. I swept my wand up and took his out of his grip, and it rolled down the step leading to his study. A mournful moaning and groaning sound could be heard through whatever charms Draco had on the door; a zombie, one of his little pets, chained to the roof and replying to the commotion.

I began to walk toward him, and shot out a Piercing Curse. He rolled, as I thought he would, and the spell nicked his cheek, crimson blood blossoming from the cut and dripping down the side of his face. He held his hand to the cut and looked at me, just _looked_, and said in a calm tone. "You'd do well not to kill me right now."

"Why's that?" I asked coldly.

"You did it yourself."

"Yeah?" I rested my wand on my left forearm and made a show of taking aim at his forehead. "One spell, and you _will_ go down."

"And the Ogdens will follow."

I froze, and he smirked a triumphant little smirk. "Dear old Gladys, steel-spined Amaris, sweet, innocent, Ellie. Living under the same roof Auror Hart died in. No more protections than they had that night. If I die, if I'm not heard from, I have instructions for what's to be done to them. You think you would be able to stop it? Like you stopped Gale's death? Or... Hart's death, or Aquilla's, or, if we're going back, Granger's? Hunt's? _Sarah Fawcett's_..."

"You son of a bitch," I hissed.

"Guilty."

"I set it up, _your_ own insurance. For something like this. Oh fuck you." And he was right about the fact I couldn't guarantee Ellie's safety, especially after Hart. For all I knew, he had another spy in Granford, and Lucas was the decoy. "Fuck."

I closed my eyes for a moment, the expression on Gale's face as he died burned there, reminding me...

But dammit, Ellie Ogden, her mother, her grandmother. Everyone else. They all came into view.

"I think we're done for today," Draco said simply. "Maybe for good. I'm not boasting when I say that your death will solve a lot of problems. Not today, but soon. Always soon. Always waiting..."

And he stood, removing his hand and showing me that the entire left side of his face was just covered in blood. He gave me a curt nod. "Fuck off, Potter. I have to send a letter to Ogden." His eyes, cold and grey and _cold_, went to Astoria, who hadn't moved after casting that shield, not even to stop me from nearly killing him. "Show him out."

With that, he limped down the steps to his study, picked up his abandoned wand and tapped the study door to make it open. I caught a glimpse of the zombie chained in the middle of the room, but the glimpse was soon covered by Draco's back. Tall, pale, the back of his head covered in a bit of blood from his fall to the ground, too. He held his wand high, flicked it, and the door to the study slammed shut.

A little part inside of me jumped at the noise. The adrenaline from our fight was wearing off, but my heart kept beating as I made my way over to Astoria. She hadn't picked up any new injuries, thankfully. "Get your things, pack as much as you need to," I told her.

She blinked at me, her expression dazed. "Why?"

"We're leaving, now."

She hesitated.

"I mean it, Astoria," I said impatiently. "We have to get you out of here, especially after that. You saw what he did to Gale, you _know_ what he is, and there's no simply blocking it off and pretending it didn't happen! I promised I'd get you out of here, and please, _please_, let me do that. There's no telling what he knows, but he knows we're close. He knows you're on my side, not his. If he finds out what we did, hell, if already knows, you're in a lot of danger. He will expend you, not as a wife, but like you're a pawn." I clicked my fingers. "Just like that."

"But I..."

"_Astoria_. He'll do to you what he did to Gale. He proved that point to me, right then and there." In blood and cold, harsh, eyes. Astoria would be used to spite me if he knew she was on my side for sure. I couldn't have that, not ever.

"Didn't you hear him?" she asked, a bit of fire creeping into her eyes. "He said he didn't destroy Liliford."

"That doesn't matter." Well it did, obviously, but priorities. "He's still behind it all, and he still wants to destroy Granford, and me, and will end you just the same, or _worse_. You know what he does to the undead in his own home. He could set you up to be eaten by one of them."

"No, he wouldn't... Well, maybe he would." The notion made her look she was going to be sick. "Oh hell, didn't you see it? Or hear it in his voice? He said no, and before that he said you truly didn't understand."

I frowned. "Go on."

"Something's changed," Astoria said emphatically. "Something big."

I thought of his behaviour in the Wizengamot meeting, of Fortess and Lucas Meadowes's own uncertainty and fear. Could that be what Draco was experiencing? Was something tripping up his plan? "Are you sure?" I asked.

She nodded. "I know both of you, how you act, how you think. I've seen and heard terrible things from both of you, but... I still know you both. I know you need all the help you can get, especially now. I know Draco's scared."

Surely she wasn't thinking... No, she couldn't. Not after that. "But what are you saying?"

"Maybe he's in over his head, and he's just realising it now. Maybe something big has changed and is making him more cautious. He seemed... so _blank_ when you asked about Liliford, like he wanted something else, or... I don't know. I don't know." She took in a deep breath, and released it. "There might be something I could salvage."

"Salvage? From Draco? He can't be saved, not from this -"

"But there's _something_! You can't deny you saw it."

"He killed Gale! For helping _me_. He will do the same to you!"

"Harry..."

"I can't have you get involved, not now, not this close."

"You need my help, still."

"He can't be salvaged, Astoria, or saved. Granford, Liliford, your marriage, are all plots, designs, and if you're wrong, if this is another idea of his to get you to stay with him -"

She shook her head. "I'm going to be here, but I won't be _with him_, Harry. I know that the marriage is a lie, and that Granford is just a game to him, not a town full of people trying to survive... So of course I don't want to be with him. When all this is over, I don't want to be married to him. I want to be with you, when all's said and done."

A trill of warmth shot through me, but I squashed it - it felt like the beginnings of a mistake, leaving her here to fend for herself. After Sarah, I couldn't take the risk, could I? "Astoria..."

"I need to stay," she said firmly. "For you, for him. I've been torn by guilt, this entire time about betraying him, about helping you. I won't betray you both at the same time, not while I can _help_ you at the same time. We both need this, Harry. Before things can go forward, and I can get out of here, and be who I want to be wherever I want to be, with you rather than him, I need to do this. I can't force you into saying yes, and I'll go if you really want me to, but... This is for the best. Just for now."

"But you won't be _safe_," I protested.

"I've been safe here for a year," she replied gently. "You just don't want me to stay."

I shook my head. "Not like this, not right now. I came to get you today. To take you somewhere, anywhere, because I can't lose you."

Astoria smiled softly. "Then you can take me tomorrow. After we've done all of this, and I've figured out what's changed for your sake. Nobody will be better at finding out than me. I know how to get around the binding spells, so..."

I didn't want to, I truly didn't. I'd given it my all against Draco earlier, used Astoria against him like I had, and she was now a target to him, somebody he couldn't trust anymore. A pawn, he thought of her, now a pawn turning against him, used by his enemy. I'd made a mess of things, Gale was _dead_, Astoria might be hurt because of it, and... Dammit, she needed to be here for her own sake, and I needed her here to get whatever we had to from Draco. He didn't destroy Liliford, but _how_... I just don't know.

This was the best option available, even if it felt like a huge, deadly and life-changing, mistake.

"He has notes," I said quietly. "Malfoy, in his study. Gale told me he keeps notes, to keep things straight, to set up his own system. Might involve Obliviating himself... I don't know. And he just said he has plans for others to find if he dies... Look, it's not much, but if you can poke around there, you might find the notes."

She nodded. "I'll try."

"Then I should go, before... Well, Granford needs me."

"I know," she said in the same tone, a quiet whisper, tender and sweet, the kind of words we exchanged after making love in the library or on the master bedroom's bed. It felt good to think about that, and I tried to hold onto the warmth...

I turned, and began to walk towards the doors. Astoria followed, never close enough to touch, but still close enough to be _near_, to be felt, to be her.

At the doorframe, where we'd kissed less than... I didn't know how much time had passed, but it felt like _weeks_. Here we stood where we did earlier, a great divide of heavy emotion blocking any contact. I stood on the doorstep, the afternoon air chilling my back. She stood inside in the empty, ruined, foyer area in a manor much too big for a person like her. Astoria was smiling at me from her side of the chasm.

"If you need me, you send a message," I said firmly. "Promise me you will."

"I promise."

"Thank you."

"Take advantage of this," she encouraged me. "Seize the moment, do what needs to be done. Be you, be the good man, the best man. Harry Potter, you do what you can to save as many as you can, and I'll be here trying the same. I'll figure out what's changed with Draco, I promise."

"You won't try," I said softly. "You'll succeed. You'll do great."

We shared a _look_, not your regular kind of look, but a heavy one that spoke more words than any other. I tried to project as much as I could on mine: my apologies, my regret, my guilt, my faith in her. Her eyes were warm with compassion, with her own apology, and her own faith in me shining bright like a star...

I closed my eyes as the door closed in front of my face, and for a moment all I heard were Sarah's screams echoing in my head.

..::..-.-..::..

I didn't know where to go when I came back to Granford. My thoughts were in disarray, thinking about Draco had said, why Astoria had chosen to say... And everything that linked back to Draco's newfound fear. Lucas Meadowes had said Hart's death - _"The first plan we had didn't work, and I... I couldn't. And when I told 'im what happened, he told me to kill Hart instead."_ - was after the first plan had failed. Something changed, _something_. Fortess had been acting strange too, Lucas hadn't been much better, and Draco... _No_, he'd said. He didn't destroy Liliford, he planned for it, but how it got destroyed, how it was buried in the mist, was a different thing entirely?

So... How did the town get destroyed?

My feet led me to the police station, and I found myself lying under the hedges next to Ron, invisible and watching trees move in the wind.

"What the hell happened to you?" Ron asked, looking at the scratches and bruises.

"Got in a fight."

"I think you need a Healer."

I snorted at that. "Later. Now I need to exhaust my last option."

"Yeah?"

"Fortess. Lay all the cards out on the table, try to convince him, or just plant the idea that he's being manipulated... He's been prepped by Malfoy this entire time to expect something from me, so I might get rebuffed, or I could offer a better deal, or..." I sighed. "This is all I've got right now." Maybe I could find out exactly what Malfoy had told him, or maybe or I could find out how incredibly screwed over I was.

"He's still at the town square," Ron said after a pensive moment. "No activity from the charms around Nott, either."

It hit me then. Vague and fuzzy, a notion half-remembered and forgotten at the same time. _Nott_.

"He hasn't called for me?" I clarified.

Ron shook his head. "Give it time, he will. He's madder than we are, mate."

I felt compelled to go check on Nott, even though, _even though_, I knew better by now. He would be mad, his words would be poison, he would tell me things I didn't want to hear, because dammit I got the feeling he still had more to say. He'd been in Liliford, so -

Oh.

Oh, _fuck_.

Without nary an explanation to Ron, I pushed myself to my feet and crossed the street to the station, undoing my Disillusionment Charm as I did. The door was unlocked, and I immediately stormed into the reception area, the desk manned by the severe, svelte, woman I'd dealt with before.

"I'm here to see the prisoner," I intoned. My heart began to beat a determined thrum in my chest.

The woman nodded, standing up to unlock the cage. "Time to feed 'im, is it? Food's in the back; you know what to do."

I didn't bring him food. Instead I conjured up anti-eavesdropping charms, Muggle-repelling spells, and anything and everything I could think of to keep this talk between me and him.

Through the bars of his cell, Theodore Nott stared at me intently. "I knew you'd be back," he said, his voice scratchy and otherworldly, some words distant in my ears and some burning and staining my soul. "Harrrr-eeee Potter."

It took that for me to realise I _knew_.

_"He was in Azkaban. After Voldemort died, he couldn't avoid it, went down in flames. Good thing too, from what I heard. He was still there with the outbreak and the Dementor revolt. Those creatures destroyed everyone there."_

_"He survived, obviously."_

_"What if it's not that simple? What if he escaped beforehand, or was even _rescued_?"_

Right away I should've seen it; nobody got out of Azkaban after the Dementors swallowed the place in their mist. Nobody escapes the mist. But Nott...

_"Nott, did you escape Azkaban?"_

_"Escape? Nooooo. I just walked out."_

The thing I missed. The thing that made Draco Malfoy afraid, the fear echoing down to Fortess and Lucas, the fear leading to the plan to kill Hart, and Gale. The thing that destroyed Liliford. Emphasis on the _thing_, the thing in the cell across from me now. He was sitting on the bench with a little smile, smug and mad and so many other things, because he knew I knew, and despite the situation, maybe _because_ of it, he knew he was in control. The thing who had been shaped and moulded into something insidious and impossible, something nobody would've seen coming.

_"I'm hearing, _hearing_, things again. Over and over, always voices. Mine and theirs and mine and theirs and mine."_

_"They are not my _friends_! They use me and push me, always and always, but we're not friends. They threaten me, with the cold, and tell, tell, tell, order every time, and never ask. Never ask!"_

_"Nothing but _mist_. They didn't tell me I'd be so _close_ to it, but I should've known!"_

_"I know something you don't know, know, know..."_

_"You can't stop me, you can't stop them. The cold is coming for the Ford of Gran. I'm bringing it."_

"Nott, how did you get out of Azkaban alive?" I asked quietly.

He pondered it for a moment. "The cold."

"You escaped the cold."

"They made it go away."

"Who did?" I pressed.

"They weren't cold anymore. They told me, oh they told me all right, and they'd tell me in things I'd already lived through." He frowned. "Isn't that odd? It's my ninth birthday and my mother's dead, dead, not alive, and at the same time I'm remembering that, I hear voices, cold voices. I don't remember that day, that memory, having a thousand voices telling me, pushing me, twisting me, me, me, but the voices said that's how they can talk with me. How they talk with ev-er-y-one." He cleared his throat and sang, "They neeeeed me, they say, and they can make the cold go away." The sing-song voice tapered off into a little laugh. "So I ask, how can the cold make the cold go away? And they take it away, see. It's still cold, but not _cooooollllddd_."

"The Dementors," I surmised with true, mounting, horror welling up within me. "The Dementors saved you, so they could use you. But why? Why would they need a pawn, why would they need a mad prisoner?"

Nott shrugged with both shoulders. "The bane."

"The bane?"

He opened his mouth, gums bloody and teeth missing from his encounter with Fortess. His eyes bugged out of his head and he close his mouth, screaming a muted, closed, scream. He began to claw, to scratch and slash, at his neck as if he was being suffocated, and I just watched the mad man twitch, trying desperately to reach for the...

The amulet around his neck. A silver amulet on a silver chain, a small round thing, innocuous as could be...

I didn't want to think about that yet. "The bane, the bane," I muttered. "The bane of the Dementors, the Patronus Charm."

Nott closed his eyes and ceased his silent screaming, but his expression grew no less pained.

And I continued on, "The Patronus is a charm powered by pure happiness, and it fights of creatures that feed on pure despair. It's a shield against them, and they... They're afraid of it?"

"It's their pain, their bane," Nott burst out, gasping at nothing. "Leaves a mark that lasts forever, that burns and burns, a neverending warmth... And the cold can't stand the warmth. Not ever." He regained control of his breathing and stared at me evenly, his bloodshot eyes filled with tears. "They told me, the voices, a thousand and one, the last one, always muted, always, always, the one I don't want to hear, mine, mine... They told me to tell you something, Har-ree Pott-ter."

I swallowed thickly. "What is it?"

Nott cackled. "The cold is coming, You can stand there and try to make sense of something insensible, but it won't change the facts. Not at all."

"But the Patronus Charm," I said with force, ignoring the shiver running down my spine. "The Dementors fear it, and the wizards who cast it. That's how we got control of them all this time. We'd use it to scare them, to stop them reverting to their baser instinct to feed. Doesn't always work, and I know that personally, but it's, dammit, it's enough. We don't know if they truly die out, but they can breed, so if we stopped that and locked them up somewhere... The Patronus is the key. They used it to round them up after Voldemort died, to shepherd them into the dungeons of Azkaban in the first place."

"And look at how that turned out," Nott said dryly.

I nodded. "Right. The Stigma changed things. They realised what they were spreading when they started to breed down there, and their mist allowed them to escape. The world was destroyed, we were distracted, and Azkaban was free enough for them to break out, to become a free species, always feeding, always..." A thought made me frown. "But why would they need a wizard? Why you? Why..."

The Dementors and Nott had had history, though, back in the war. Nott, at his father's behest, had fed the remains of Voldemort's experiments to them, and that winter had changed him enough, had allowed the Dementors time to cultivate a connection, a food source they could tap into. Nott had just said they communicated via the bad memories they made people see, and it would be easier to communicate with somebody they've already cultivated, already prepared, by residual feedings. In their hunger lust, they had devoured most of Azkaban, but that connection with Nott, or maybe something he himself did to try and escape, had garnered their attention enough. That's why they chose him. But the question remained: Why did they need a human pawn in the first place?

"They haven't attacked yet," I said. "We've always been prepared, every one of our colonies, but they haven't come to eat us yet. They've been... patient. Their fear of the Patronus?"

All I got out of Nott was an angry hiss.

"They're free, because of The Stigma. But always, always, hungry. They couldn't eat the undead - they're soulless, they're nothing. So they just eat in situations they know they can survive, with stray Muggle hideouts or places of interest. When they eat, they breed. They build their numbers, over and over, until there's an army. And if they keep building, keep feeding and keep breeding, they can make an army big enough to overcome the wizards, even with the Patronus at their disposal. They'd want it as big as they possible could have it. Their army, their attacking force, their..." The words tasted bitter on my tongue. "Their final push to rid the world of everything but them. The ultimate feast. They don't even care they'll starve after; maybe that's the point. They can't think of anything else _but_ food."

"I've been in the cold for a long time now," said Nott. "Long, long, time. So cold, every day, every moment, every other moment, every other day. It. Never. Ends."

"They had you in reserve, just in case. But why would they..." I clicked my fingers. "Liliford and Granford. The two biggest settlements of Muggles, who built their numbers up over the past year to a point where the Dementors would get what they needed when they devoured both of the towns. Say they scout the towns, but there's something in their way. They can see through the spells the Ministry watchmen around Liliford use. They know there's wizards in the town. In order to stop any potential losses, or any potential exposure to their bane... They send in you."

"They said the cold would go away, and it did." Nott smiled and closed his eyes, holding his arms around himself as he remembered those sparse moment of absent cold. To him, there would be nothing but the cold by now; he was that far gone. "I walked into the Ford of Lillies, and they invited me in. You remember."

"Then you got to Megan," I said, disgusted.

"At first, when I asked, she gave me some names, and told me what they looked like. When I poked and prodded, she gave me _more_, much, _much_, more." He released his arms from himself, and his look, frightened and lost before, lit up with an insane grin. He licked his dry and cracked lips, savouring whatever taste came to mind. "Mee-gan, Meg-an, May-gan. Idiot woman gave me everything I wanted, and when I was done with her I put the thing inside of her. The thing they wanted me to put in the town, so they could eat it from the inside out, inside out. And as they told me to do, as they told me in that day in my third year at Hogwarts, that afternoon, with the rain, and the Greengrass bint, the Daphne, telling me something, something mean, something spiteful... Something she really ought not've." He licked his lips again. "I really wish I'd gotten to taste her once. But.. what was it they told me? What was it that the cold told me? The voices? The cold voices? I don't quite... Taste it."

He trailed off after that, but I didn't need to hear the rest. He'd already told me before what happened after Megan died, and I remembered all too well.

_"Mist! Choking, white, cold, everywhere, in my eyes, my ears, my skin. Choking me. Nothing but mist. They didn't tell me I'd be so close to it, but I should've known! ... I was on a hill, high above everything. The town, the Ford of Lillies, and mist. Spread. The mist blossomed and ebbed and flowed and multiplied until it was nothing _but_ mist, and I ran, I did, as far as I could. But they told me to go to the Ford of Gran, and I went. _Here_."_

Nott began to toy with the amulet around his neck, and I watched him.

"I scanned you with a diagnostic charm when you got here," I said, almost curiously. "It would've told me if that amulet was something. It didn't tell me. But now I get the feeling otherwise."

"Well you are just clever as they come, and they come just as often as you do," Nott retorted. He let the amulet drop back down around his neck. "When I ran from the Ford of Lillies, they were quick to find me again. They always find me, they're always calling..." He tapped the side of his head. "Always."

"And the amulet?"

Nott puffed up and a trace of lucid arrogance flashed on his face. "I made it. Completely undetectable by your spells. It can fit a lot of things inside. A lot of _them_."

My heart stopped for a moment. "The Dementors," I said, my throat dry. "There are Dementors in there. In that amulet."

"They're always calling," Nott confirmed, lightly tracing the scratch marks around his neck, both the older scars and the newer scratches. "I made it, but see, I didn't want to make it. They're smart, the cold bringers, very smart, and they _tricked_ me. Me! Thee-oh-dooor, they tricked and lied to. They tricked me because they neeeeed me for _here_. Gran. Ford. For. Tess." He repeated both phrases under his breath, while I tried to slow my breathing and think over options.

Nott had created something that could hold Dementors, but come to think of it, any old thing could hold them. Make a box, add an Expansion Charm, and put the Dementor inside. It wouldn't be a permanent thing, and keeping that much pure force, pure _evil_ force, locked in a box like that would not be possible for as long as Nott's been here and wearing that amulet, unless... Unless there was a spell, some kind of switch, a fuel of some kind to keep the amulet together. Nott created it, but the Dementors would've had the idea, the idea to use Nott as that power source. Nott's life, Nott's soul, Nott's magic, keeping the Dementors in their box, waiting to be release. They'd stay near their weapon until he was done, because he still had a use here in Granford.

But, _but_, a thought struck me.

Nott was in a prison cell. He wasn't a part of Malfoy's plan, and he wasn't going to be released any time soon. Nott was being tortured by those Dementors behind bars, and he, and the Dementors controlling him, would do anything to get free. _Anything_.

"The amulet," I said, pushing myself against the bars. "In order for the Dementors to be kept inside, it has to be linked to you."

"I do know what you're thinking," cackled Nott. "As long as it's around my neck, burning my skin and choking, _choking_ -" He closed his mouth in that silent scream again, and his eyes rolled back into his head. Yet, despite the torture, he stayed seated on the bench like he was glued there. When he was done, he spat out the rest of the sentence, "- and when it's released from me, so will they!"

He'd goaded me into trying to kill him the second time we talked, when he mentioned everything he did to Megan and then Liliford. Back then it was a combination of my lack of sleep and the uncertainty of the pureblood agenda's plans nearly pushing me into it. Nott, and the Dementors, had known the buttons to push that nearly killed him. And then there was Fortess. Fortess had turned his beaten his face into a pulp because Nott had exposed whatever weakness he had at the time, and given that the event occurred after The Burrows attack and Warren's 'disappearance', Nott had chosen the right time to strike. It almost worked, just like with me. He almost died.

Which is exactly what he wanted.

"You want to die."

He hissed again. "I don't _want_ to die. But the voices want to be free, and the only way out is the _way out_, the last train to nothing. They want out, they want their food, they want their _mist_." His gaze moved beyond me and into the far corner of his cell. "I want it to end. So do they."

"That explains why you've been so honest, this entire time," I said in realisation. "Because there's nothing more provoking than pure truth, especially your brand of mad, insane, truth." I shook my head. "This whole time..."

Nott scoffed. "You may know everything there is to know, know, know, but you still can't stop it. The cold is coming."

"Piss on that, you're not going to get your deathwish, not from me."

"There's always other options. The Muggle, one of your friends..."

"There is that, I'll give you, but you'll be long gone from here before that happens," I said determinedly. "Plenty of time to remove the amulet -"

"I wouldn't do that either, Har-ree." Nott smirked. "When it no longer touches my skin..." He shuddered. "When it no longer burns my skin, they'll be released. Immediately."

"Then they'll eat you first," I said coldly.

"It's not as if they'd need me anymore," Nott pointed out, lucidly enough. "I did a bad enough job of the Ford of Gran, haven't I? Another cell, not this one but the first one maybe the one before that. Another cell."

"So why haven't you just released them already?"

Nott blinked owlishly. "I told you. I don't _want_ to die. The cold is pushing for it, oh they are pushing and twisting and taking... But I don't want to die. They want me to, but I don't... and I do. The pain, the cold. I don't, but I do. I want it to end, but I can't let it end. I am Theodore Nott, and I do _not_ end things on whims. I am above it. Forever and ever and ever. _Better_."

I took careful aim with my wand through the bars, and shot off a Stunning Spell. It washed over him like a red wave, and he titled his head when it became apparent he hadn't felt its effects.

"They are not happy about that," Nott muttered.

This was, to put it very lightly, an extremely not very good situation. I took a step back, physically and mentally, and tried to stay calm, to stop that feeling of dread from taking over all that I was, swallowing me like a Dementor's mist. The true extent of this was horrifying, and the worst part was how unexpected, but not, it was. Even thinking about Dementors wasn't done, so I never really thought as them as the true threat, _the_ threat, but I was so wrong about that. They spread The Stigma. They took advantage when they realised what was going on. They're bigger than Draco Malfoy or Harry Potter, they're evil, primordial, hungry beasts of old and unknown, unkillable, undefeatable, scared of one spell that gets harder and harder to cast as time goes on and the happy memories leak out into nothing. This whole time, there was a threat that went beyond politics of the Wizengamot, Malfoy's scheming. It seemed so petty now, so insignificant. Nott was bringing the destruction of us all with him, and we'd been too busy with our own fights to notice.

If Nott released the Dementors, they would swallow Granford whole.

If Granford was turned into a breeding ground, it wouldn't take the Dementors long to have the numbers they needed.

Godric's Hollow, Fairlane, and The Burrows would be first. Or maybe it would be a simultaneous attack, or maybe they'd not risk any losses and just march straight on Hogwarts and Hogsmeade, feeding on the terror and breeding in the remains. Not only that, but there were the undead, who could be turned by the Dementors into faster, stronger, versions of themselves, like they did to the kid from Kingsley Shacklebolt's scavenging team. The zombies would run in the mist, hunt by smell and sound while we stumbled blind, and what they didn't eat, the Dementors would.

The world already ended with their stigma, and now it was on the brink again.

For a moment, nothing else seemed important... until I remembered something.

When I asked him about Liliford, made him call in his life debt for it, his eyes had shimmered with something I'd never seen before. Astoria's comments had taken me to the conclusion, one I didn't want to share given what happened to Gale. Draco Malfoy was scared. He told me outright that he didn't destroy Liliford, despite the fact all signs pointed it. From the start his side had been advocating we pushed past discussion of the disclosure, and Selwyn, his mouthpiece, had reminded us several times to focus on rounding up the Dementors again. Malfoy could've wanted that done to avoid another Stigma outbreak, or he could've seen something like this coming.

But he was still scared. How, why, what -

"Nott," I said. "The other night you said you had three visitors that day. Fortess, myself, and..."

He shrugged. "I don't know him, they didn't know him. He only said one word. _Imperio._"

Lucas Meadowes. Imperius Curse. Malfoy heard about Nott's appearance, had nothing but bad thoughts abound at the idea of his old classmate out and about, wanted to get him out without causing any damage, and had Lucas try and take him quietly. But, like my Stunning Spell earlier, the Dementors had protected him. Not only that, but when Meadowes used the curse, he created a connection, and when that connection turned to nothing and all he would've felt was cold, he panicked. He ran, told Malfoy what happened, and Malfoy panicked. He needed to push for the vote and write off Granford entirely, hoping to kill them all right away before the Dementors could fill their bellies. So he acted fast, out of his fear, and that's why Hart was killed, and why he pushed so hard in today's meeting.

He panicked because of Nott.

I had to get him out of Granford, but I couldn't for the life of me think of a way. He was a ticking timebomb ready to unleash hell, and it wouldn't be as simple as just taking him out of here and making sure he didn't die or release himself from the amulet - it wouldn't be that simple, the Dementors would prevent that, and they'd do something... There was no one I could trust for that.

Unless, and the thought didn't fill me with the warm fuzzies, Malfoy could be my ally in this. As much as he wanted the Muggles all dead, he wanted the wizards all dead even less. He's had a year to plan all of this, and Nott and the Dementors are ruining that and much, much, more. If the Dementors gobble up Granford, Malfoy's plans of keeping the wizarding world as its utopia go to nothing - if the Dementors eat us all, it's all moot anyway. Draco might yet be the ally in this true threat, the one we all forgot out of terrible fear, the one that will destroy Granford whether the Wizengamot says so or not.

Draco knew all of this, and even though he had the opportunity, he hadn't appealed to me. The pillock's pride had been hurt by the way I destroyed his image in front of his wife and cost him more than one of his pawns, and by the way I accused him over Liliford. He had killed Gale to spite me, to prove that he didn't need me, or want me, for _this_, for dealing with Nott. We had fought instead of talked things out.

But there was still time. Malfoy Manor was right where I left it, and I had to get there _now_.

"I'll be back for you later," I told Nott.

"I'm looking forward to it," he replied. Before I could go, however, he added, "They are too."

His laugh, a throaty cackle, a mad giggle, a whistling deranged laugh, followed me all the way out of the room. I kept the spells up, because dammit, I didn't want anybody to see or hear him, and I didn't want anybody killing him while I was gone.

I was in the hallway out of the station when a bright light filled my vision. It swirled from the ground, forming and shaping, and a familiar warmth washed over me; my injured arms tingled and the pain was dulled for a brief moment. The Patronus never became fully corporeal, nothing but a flickering image of a bird-like animal. The swirl brightened and dulled, and a voice warbled out of the trembling light.

It was Astoria, and she sounded scared. "Harry," she said. "Come quick."

The Patronus disappeared in a flash, and for a second...

I didn't think.

I bolted outside, and made a beeline for Ron. Astoria's voice and Nott's laughter echoed from behind me.

"Harry, what's going on?" Ron asked.

"You want to play backup again?"

He nodded. "Of course. What is it, Harry? What's going on?"

"I need to make another stop at Malfoy's. Something's going on, and Astoria needs me. I can't guarantee it won't devolve into another fight, and I'll need the backup." I gestured a hand. "Bring the Cloak, I'll explain on the way."

..::..-.-..::..

The view of the estate was blocked by the outer gates, a thick, wrought-iron barrier polished to an almost golden gleam in the dying afternoon sunlight. The sky was a dark, ugly, orange, the winter clouds hiding the warmer colours all day and Malfoy Manor hiding them right now. Rolling hills and copses of trees that surrounded the manor felt barren and lifeless in this weather, and the feeling pressing in my gut didn't make it feel much better. The land was untouched and still, even as a brisk wind picked up and chilled the deepest parts of my body. I shook my head and turned my attentions back to the gates, locked and holding back all the things that happened inside. Inside that manor, years and lifetimes ago, I'd lost a friend and fought for my life. Here, now, I saw it as a place of two polar opposites - one side was the happiness and the warmth I found there with Astoria, pent up in our special spot in the library, and the other side was the cold, the foreign nature of Draco Malfoy, never a friend, barely an ally, a murderer and a liar, and always in the way of something.

"The gates are locked," Ron pointed out from underneath my Invisibility Cloak.

"They were when I came earlier today, too," I replied, pulling out my wand. "Draco didn't want to let me in, and I had no official capacity to convince Astoria's elves to open them up, so I had to improvise." I flicked my wand a couple of times experimentally. "Stand back."

I repaired the gates when we were on the other side, and we made our way up the path. We were walking a trail of unforseeable futures, striding past the ornate and fancy gardens and lawns and fountains without looking. I knew if I looked, all I would see were the remnants of Draco's recent hunting exercises. Broken debris from trees, plants or the fountains, blood and guts, corpses and chains.

By the time I pushed all of that out of my head, we were near the grand double doors leading into the foyer. The doors I'd last seen Astoria standing in, before she closed them on me... I was here for her again, because she called. I'd figured what she had stayed to figure out, and if she was in trouble... I never should've let her stay, not now, not after everything.

Deep foreboding tore up my insides.

"Wait here," I told Ron. "Be close enough to run in if things get messy - you'll hear it - but stay here just in case. If Draco senses your arrival, even under the Cloak, we could be in a bad position before we even start trying to get his help."

Ron nodded his assent and didn't follow me to the doors. As I got there, I expected the doors to open - opened either by Astoria or a house elf, but they didn't. In an attempt to not get off on the wrong foot, despite what I'd done to the gates, I knocked politely.

Once, _knock knock_. Twice, _knock knock_.

And the doors didn't open.

I frowned at that. For a moment I considered options; knocking again, breaking in, waiting, yelling and screaming for Draco to come on out and face me, or for Astoria to come out and run away with me... But eventually, I just reached out and tapped the doors with my wand. They both glided open, opening the mouth of the mansion for all to see, giving me the entrance inside.

I walked inside, and shut the doors behind me. "Hello?" I called out into the foyer. "Malfoy? Astoria?"

Then I noticed the blood.

I'd spilt some of Malfoy's on the crimson carpet, but I didn't remember causing the stains on the wall by the study door. Two of the four pillars tucked in each corner of the room were missing their ancestral marble Malfoy busts, fatalities of the fight earlier. But the portraits, on the other hand... They were all empty frames, canvases of green and silver and black, but no picture, no man or woman sitting in the frame and staring down at all those who dare entered.

"Malfoy?" I called, and my own voice replied from the roof to the ground, echo, echo, _echo_... "Astoria?"

The door to the study was partially open. As I made my way over, my eyes followed a trail of blood, of _fresh_ blood, from the study to the staircase, and up the staircase, bloody footprints and a line leading up to a puddle at the top of the stairs...

I went to the study first, taking the two steps down and carefully avoiding slipping in the blood pooling at the base of the door. Inside, I saw a neat, tidy, room, circular in shape and holding an ostentatious ebony desk, a set of wooden cabinets lining the walls, and a chain hanging off of a hook on the roof. The chain was wrapped dangling in the air, the end shaped like a noose and drenched in blood and pinkish gore.

There was a headless corpse sprawled out on the study floor, and a splatter of blood on the wall behind the corpse and the wall in front of it. On the ground near the door, a clump of bloodied, platinum-blond hair was lying in a small pool of blood.

I looked up. A bloody handprint was imprinted on the study door.

It had almost happened once before, and I been there. Malfoy, playing with his pet zombie in his study on its chain. The zombie had almost taken a bite of our Malfoy's cheek while he was distracted by me, and it was only because of my spell that he avoided his fate... that time.

With perfect clarity I could imagine the scene.

The duel with me left him injured, angry, dejected, maybe even disappointed I hadn't pick up on Nott's true nature yet, and that he had to kill Gale. He's been pushed by the day's events, and his own fear is driving him now, all of his plans gone to ruin because of the Dementors, because of Nott, and maybe because of me... I'd thrown Astoria in his face just before we had our fight.

So Draco's distracted, and tired, and he takes his frustrations out on the zombie, however he usually does it. But it's not enough, and he takes a moment to breathe... The zombie had been a new acquisition, and Astoria had said it was quick, quick enough to eat one of their house elves this morning. My mind went to the trick I saw the Dementors pull off, where they create a still-living zombie that was faster, hungrier, than your usual walking undead, and I briefly wondered if that was the kind chained up in Malfoy's study today.

Either way, with his neck or his cheek exposed for barely a second, the zombie had struck.

My fingers traced the blood on the wall in front of the headless corpse. Draco's blood. The zombie had bitten hard enough to splatter, and maybe had enough of a hold to rip off that clump of hair...

Draco would've fought back, and blew up the thing's head, leaving nothing but a chain hanging from the roof.

Then, bleeding, stumbling, knowing he's about to die, and maybe without truly realising it... He opens the door.

The bloody footprints led up the stairs.

My blood went cold.

"Astoria!" I yelled, pushing out of the carnage of the study and back into the foyer, the cold, empty, dead, foyer, a cavern inside a manor inside a dead plot of land... But the manor would be large, large enough for one woman to hide from one zombie. If Astoria heard the commotion as Draco left the study, or even if his screams pierced the muting charms around the study door, she would've come down the stairs to see... And immediately ran back up, just as she would've been taught. Because that's what she would've been told to do, in case one of Draco's hunting victims got out. She would've ran. She would've hid, and sent me her message from there.

I pounded up the stairs, calling her name again. "Astoria! Astoria, I'm coming for you!"

My head began to pound, and it blocked out all noise. It wasn't a hard trip up the stairs, but my breath was short with fear, with dread and with an echoing feeling. I was hearing Sarah again. Over and over.

No, no, no.

From the balcony I followed the footprints, some looking like they went backwards instead of forwards, down the hallway leading to the master bedroom. I turned the corner to the hallway, and -

I saw a corpse, and it hit me. Astoria fought back. Of course she did, of course she would've. She fought back when she had the chance. She was scared and confused and lost but dammit _she fought back_.

I knelt down beside the corpse. He was slumped against a wall, and the tall, pale, larger-than-life figure of Draco Malfoy was nothing compared to this bloody massacre. His robes were soaked through with the blood, his upper neck, right on the vein, showing off the puncture wounds from the zombie's teeth. His cheek was still cut from my spell earlier, but it seemed to only frame the hole, drilled dead in the centre of his forehead, Astoria's own Piercing Curse, just like I taught her in the gardens, days ago. His eyes, milky white in colour now, dull as could be, were staring into nothing, but the way they were open, the way they were just _open_ like that made me think he had been shocked that of all people, it had been Astoria who had killed him.

But the bloody trail still followed off from Draco's corpse. This trail wasn't a smear with puddles but a steady rain of drip-dropping blood staining the carpet, and I followed it right to the closed door of the master bedroom.

I opened the door.

She was on the bed.

Her eyes were closed, but that was the only peaceful thing about her. Her right hand was clapsed tightly around her wand, slack against her still chest, but I could see the mark where she had pressed the tip against the bottom of her neck. The bed, the bed we shared one night when her husband was away, was covered in her blood, and backboard was splattered with bits of brain and skull bone. Blood splattered all the way up to the roof with the sheer force of her self-afflicted spell. The rest of her was a bloody mess, and the bite mark on her left hand told enough of the story.

I just... stared. And there was nothing else, nothing but numbness. Sarah's screams stopped echoing in my head, and instead, when I closed my eyes I just saw Astoria Greengrass's corpse burned on my retinas forever, a mockery of everything she had ever been. Sarah had been torn apart and burned before Neville had ended the pain, but Astoria... She had ended it herself.

There was a folded piece of parchment on the bedside table, a single word written on the front in her script, her elegant handwriting, ruined by the bloody smear settled in the middle of my name.

_There's nothing left_, the note began, breaking my heart in a million pieces just to read her writing, just to imagine her voice reading it out. _I was right about Draco being scared, but... I was so wrong about so many other things, Harry. I'm so sorry that you found this, and that I led you here, but there are some things that you need to know._

_It might've been the portraits. I can't be sure, but one could've seen us kiss on the doorstep, seen us do something we kept to our spot in the library or in this room. If that portrait told Draco, he would've been angry, and distracted enough to be bitten by the dead man chained up in his study... We were there when he almost died last time, so it's possible. But the worst part, Merlin the worst part, was that his door was locked. I didn't hear it happen, but when I knocked on the door, to talk to him and try to reach out to him, he unlocked it, and opened it, and... turned, in front of me. He bit me, Harry, before I even saw it coming, and I ran and he chased but when I got the chance I took it, and I killed him. I killed my husband, but he had already killed me. I know that this bite can't be healed. We've done a lot of reading in the library, but there's nothing in there to heal this. _

_I can't help, especially now, but think that because he knew about us, he unlocked the door. Just for this. Just to spite... just to kill..._

_I've made a mess of things, haven't I? I should've listened to you; you wanted me to come with you and I should've come with you. We could've run away and just been together, and Healed people..._

_There's nothing left... for me. It's too late for me, but not for you._

_When Draco died, I felt the magical binding I was under lift. It was... freeing, a great burden from my shoulders. And even though I knew what was coming, and even though I didn't want to turn into one of those things, I took the time to figure out how to help you. I went into his study, and unlocked his secret compartments - the wards around them went down when he did, just as he planned. His plan was to let Selwyn and Parkinson take his notes and his plans and do what needed to be done in the case of his death, but Harry, you can take those plans, and those notes. I hope that you find this before they come - Parkinson, Selwyn, and Bulstrode were coming over for dinner, and to take care of Gale's body, so you have to be quick._

_You have it, don't you see? I only read a few of them, but I know that Draco's scared of Theodore Nott and the Dementors, that Aaron Fortess is compromised, and he thinks the Wizengamot's completely handled. There's still hope, and it's all there, and more. Granford's in danger, and I meant what I said about wanting to save it. It has to survive, and you are the best chance the town has against the Dementors and Draco's manipulations. See? I was helpful in the end, even though... I didn't mean for it to be like this. I really, truly, wanted to be with you when all of this was over. I should've listened to you today, I should've been smarter, and I'm just..._

_I won't let myself turn into one of those things. It's starting to get me, and I've done all I can, and I know what to do next. I don't know if my message will get to you in time, and although I just want you nearby, I won't risk it. I can barely write this, but... Seize the moment, take advantage while you can. Do what you do best. Remember that, even when all hope looks lost._

_Goodbye Harry._

The next three words she'd written had been crossed out, replaced with three more, all different, just below.

"I'm so sorry," I read aloud, my voice so low I didn't even hear it. I stood over Astoria's body, clutching her final note in one hand and feeling my insides twist and seize... _I'm so sorry_. That's all there was to it. _You and me both, Astoria. _

..::..-.-..::..

_To Be Continued in Chapter Fourteen: Integrity..._

..::..-.-..::..

Post-Chapter Notes:

- _Author's Note :: _Astoria was always meant to die, from the very beginning. I can understand that to some of you this might come off as weird with three chapters left and all, or stupid because it may seem senseless, or just plain mean, but it was always going to happen. Every time I wrote her and her jumping on the lifeline that was her relationship with Harry, there was this undercurrent of tragedy I tried to convey to make the blow less harsh while still making it a shock. Maybe I've succeeded, maybe not. But Harry's still got a bit left to go, as three chapters remain, and I hope you all continue to read and enjoy. Cheers.

_- Next Chapter Tease ::_ As events in Granford take a turn, Harry rallies the Wizengamot. No zombies in this 20k word plus chapter, but politics fun ensues.

_- Wizengamot Scorecard ::_

- _Pro-Disclosure_ :: Harry, Neville, Susan, Boot, Brown, Patil, Diggory.

- _Anti-Disclosure_ :: Parkinson, Bulstrode, Selwyn, Burke.

- _Swing Votes_ :: MacMillan, Smith, Zabini, Cuffe.

- _Former Members ::_ Bill Weasley (Resigned), Isaac Aquilla (Dead), Hoster Harper (Dead), Artemis Hart (Dead), Grey Gale (Forcibly resigned, then killed). Draco Malfoy (Dead), Astoria Malfoy (Replaced Gale, then killed).

- _Member Count ::_ Fifteen.

- _Status ::_ Not evenstalled.

Thanks for reading!

..::..-.-..::..


	14. Chapter Fourteen: Integrity

_Standard Disclaimer_ :: All things Harry Potter belong to JK Rowling and affiliates. This fanfiction is a non-profit venture written for the enjoyment of myself and my readers.

_Dedication :: _To Seratin, Lutris, Zeitgeist, Vira and my friends from DLP, for putting up with my insanity, for reading early drafts, and just being there. Also, to all those who reviewed/favourited/alerted me or my story here on FFnet, cheers. Props to DLP for the feedback, too - anyone reading this who hasn't devoured their C2 on this very site must do so now. It's the first community on the list, for a damn good reason, and I'm more than happy to have this story a part of it too.

_Preface :: _Well, reactions to the last chapter were pretty awesome, so cheers guys. Storylines are starting to wrap up in the final slide, and it's just the kind of stuff that I looked forward to writing the most, and that it reads well enough is a bonus. Unfortunately, a bit of politics left to get through. But we will persevere. We can do this! Onwards!

_Previously :: _Harry walked into Malfoy Manor and met with a fearful Astoria, not just because Draco was there, but he had prepared a special guest for Harry: Grey Gale. Gale and Astoria sat on the sidelines as potential collateral as Harry and Draco verbally sparred over recent events, and, once and for all, Harry called in his life debt, gifted from Draco's mother for dodging Azkaban time. Unfortunately, the question Harry asked, "Did you, Draco Malfoy, destroy Liliford?", turned out to be the wrong one, and Draco's answer, "No", sent Harry into a rage. In a quick gambit, Draco revealed that Gale has been forcibly resigned from the Wizengamot by himself, and kills the man to prove the point to Harry. The duel that ensued ended in Harry's favour, and would've ended Draco had the latter reminded Harry of the insurance the Ogdens's placement in Granford was. Astoria decided to stay in the manor to help figure out why Draco said what he said, and Harry, reluctantly, went back to Granford. There, he was hit with the biggest revelation of them all: Theodore Nott wasn't in league with Draco, but with the Dementors, and all it'll take is him dying to unleash the mist on Granford. Everything falls into place for Harry, but before he can take action, he gets a message from Astoria, a distress, and rushes over to Malfoy Manor...

Only to find the mansion a bloodbath. Draco had been bitten by the zombie in his study, and, nearing death, let himself turn and bite his wife on the hand. Harry pieces together that Astoria was able to run, then fight back, and Draco Malfoy's corpse was found on the second floor. But it was too late for Astoria, as Harry discovered. She killed herself to avoid turning, and her corpse was found along with her final note and some instructions...

..::..-.-..::..

_Chapter Fourteen of Sixteen: Integrity_

..::..-.-..::..

Night had fallen on the gardens of Malfoy Manor as the doors closed behind me for the final time. I had no intention of going back in, not now, not ever, but at the same time I knew I'd be back, in my nightmares with all the rest.

I walked down the steps and onto the brick-lined trail, twisting down to the gates, travelling past lawns, flowerbeds and the fountains. The light of the moon reflected off of the tip of every blade of grass, wet from a light rain that passed while I was inside. The air itself felt cold and wet, and I knew the rain would be back in full force later. I didn't need to dawdle, not with what I had to do next, and my breath appeared in front of my face in a wispy vapour as I said, "_Expecto Patronum_."

To fuel the spell, I used a happy memory that wouldn't lead back to _her_, either of the hers, all of the hers, the hims, the ones lost to war and chaos, blood and fire; the dead ones. It was a short list of happy memories that didn't involve the lost, but I found one. Whatever it was, it was gone from my head the moment I waved my wand, and the form of my father's Animagus appeared in a burst of white, ethereal and beautiful, light. For a second, the air didn't feel as cold or as wet, and blood pulsed under my warmed skin.

I watched my breath hang in the air again. "Go to Tiberius Ogden and give him this message," I told Prongs. The stag nodded, ready to receive it. "Draco Malfoy is dead. Granford's in more danger than I thought, if that was even possible, and Malfoy's death doesn't help matters. It's... a long story, and I'll be around to see you later. Just for now, know that Malfoy and..." My voice caught in my throat. "Malfoy and his wife are dead. That's all."

With a flick of my wrist, a half-turn and a upwards motion with my wand, Prongs went, soaring off into the night sky and taking the reprieve the warmth brought with it. Without the Patronus, I felt miserable, tired, dejected...

But it still hadn't hit me. Not yet.

"Harry?" Ron said, taking off my Invisibility Cloak. He stood from his hiding spot by one of the fountains and walked forward, the tip of his wand lit and playing dark shadows on his pale face. "You were gone an hour, and... You didn't call for help, but they're dead? Malfoy and... Astoria?"

I nodded my head numbly. "It wasn't me, before you ask."

"I wasn't going to." He was beside me now, and we stood on the trail, with me ignoring that the path lead to the manor, _that_ manor with the memories good and bad. "What happened?"

"You heard, but... Well. Draco kept zombies in the house," I said quietly. "Like back in Fairlane; you saw."

Ron gestured to the fountain. "Saw what looked like a chain, and some blood. Yeah, I figured."

"And what happened, Ron? Draco got bitten, and when I got there, there was nothing but the corpses." I sighed, feeling the thrum of a headache, the repressed scream of hateful grief I wanted to unleash, settle in my mind. "No house elves, no portraits. The whole place is dead. Hell, Gale's body's still sitting in the parlour."

"What's in the bag?"

At my side was a satchel, recently conjured, which I had magically expanded on the inside and stuffed all of Draco's notes into. Astoria's note, the one that really mattered, was sitting in my pocket, right next to the ring I never gave Sarah. Both of them made me feel weighed down inexplicably. "Draco had a system," I explained. "He had a lot of plans and a lot of people to keep straight. He was smart, but no human library. I only read some, but from what I understand, he wrote things down both to make sense of it later and to protect himself from a Legilimens. He had himself Obliviated regularly, on the tinier details that could trip him up if somebody scanned his thoughts, but he never got rid of anything he thought he wouldn't need - the notes helped, too. Maybe not the best system, but it worked for him, and it's helpful to me."

"And these notes..."

"He had them hidden, but the spells were unlocked in his death. Scanned a few, collected a lot more - like a scavenging trip." I shook my head. "Enough of that, we need to talk somewhere else. I spent an hour in there I shouldn't have, and we'll be having some company soon -"

As if on cue, three sharp ringing and cracking sounds of apparation rang through the fresh night air, and three figures appeared at the front gates.

"Selwyn, Parkinson, Bulstrode," I said quickly. "Come on, we'll jump the wall out to the side. Now. Before they get up here."

Ron nodded briskly. "Got it." But he paused for a moment, sniffing at the air. "Harry, why do I smell smoke?"

Down the trail, I heard three voices announce their presence, but the gates didn't budge, just like they hadn't for me earlier. "I burned the corpse in Malfoy's study, the zombie who bit him. Let's say for the sake of it that Draco used fire to kill the zombie, it caught, and managed to burn down all the notes he would want to pass on in the event of his death. He would've used fire, wouldn't he? Either way, we go, now."

I tapped the back of my neck with my wand, a cool trickling sensation swooping down my spine indicating the successful Disillusionment Charm. Ron donned my Invisibility Cloak, and the two of us ran off to the side of the trail just as the trio opened the gates. We fled into the night without looking back - either to see if we'd been spotted, or just for the sake of looking. When we hoisted ourselves over the low stone walls, punching through the wards that had been softened by the death of the manor's master, I thought about looking back, taking in the mansion one last time and telling myself something comforting, like everything would be all right.

But Nott was sitting in Granford ready to unleash the Dementors. Fortess had been lied and manipulated to by Malfoy, whose death would not help either matter. And Astoria... I never got her out of there. She entered that mansion at her father's behest, married off to a man who just needed her for her potential Wizengamot vote, and never left. I'd promised, more than once, to show her how things were now, every good and bad part of it. Thing was, she already knew it; she died in pain, alone and uncertain for so many things.

The only thing I told myself was that she wouldn't die in vain.

..::..-.-..::..

Water trickled down my glasses as we crossed the Old Bridge into Granford. The rain had appeared when we did, not as light as it had been near the manor, and it drenched us through to the bone before we could cross the ward boundary line. Men and women huddled under cover on the Tent Bridge, though a few braver sentries stood underneath the Two Flares, always vigilant for their town, to them all that there was. Shame those flares wouldn't help in a Dementor attack, with the mist blocking all sources of light, but all of the Muggle defences were similarly useless against a bunch of monsters they couldn't see. The rain poured on the two bridges and those hiding from it only served to remind me how _fragile_ everything, everyone, was. They were food ready to be eaten, nothing more. And they would, dammit they would, be eaten soon if I didn't stop it somehow.

That depressing thought carried with me like a bad stench all the way to the alleyway off to the side of the town's entrance, where Ron and I removed our disguises.

"Let's get to Abe's," I said. "You can keep a hold of the cloak for now."

"Thanks," he replied, stuffing it into his jacket pocket carefully. When he was done, he began to itch at his elbow. "I won't, um, tell anybody about what happened back there."

"There's nothing to not tell," I said, though I appreciated the gesture. Out of everybody I knew, Ron might just understand my relationship with Astoria the best. Or... what relationship there _was_. It didn't matter now. "I'm glad you have my back, though."

He smiled a ghost of a smile. "Every time."

The mouth of the alleyway led to a street connected to the south side of the main square, the centre area of the town that was more circle-shaped than square. When we emerged, the earlier hubbub of the town-wide winter supply inventory had tapered off, lost to both the rain and the night. A few people darted back and forth, and the town hall's windows were bright and yellow in the night, alight with activity and warmth of the townspeople sharing a meal together. I inhaled deeply and brought the smell of cooked food into my nostrils, and for a moment I heard laughter ringing in the night.

Then Su Li appeared at our sides, her expression grave. "Come quick," she said. "It's Terry."

We followed her out of the square, running with footsteps pounding on wet pavement, headed towards the police station.

An ice-cold feeling wormed its way in the back of my skull. "Is it Nott?" I demanded. "What would Terry -"

"It's not Nott," Su replied. "It's Juliet."

That didn't exactly make me feel much better, and the expression on her face didn't help things at all. Worry pushed me into a quickened pace, and the police station came into view a minute later. We didn't go into the station, but towards the two-story storage building where a number of Fortess's best, like Stanthorpe and Juliet, lived. From what I understood, Juliet used to live with Fortess and his wife, before all of this went down, in a house on the north side of town, but the houses there had been abandoned, and since Fortess wanted to work out of the police station, Juliet had wanted to stay close. When we got to the building, a few people were mulling around, muttering and whispering with grim looks on their faces. Su pushed past and I followed, turning a corner into a grey hallway. The kind of hallway that was practical, boring to look at on a normal day, but right now it was the epicentre of something, something that had gathered a small crowd.

I saw Stanthorpe standing at the end of the hall, his hands raised in a placating manner. "Juliet, Fortess is coming, okay?" he was saying. "Just stay calm, and -"

"What going on?" I asked, pushing past a few burly men to get to Stanthorpe. He was standing across from an open door. "Stan?"

The man took in my presence, his eyes flashing to the injuries I still hadn't healed from my fight with Malfoy. "Harry," he said, surprised. "Harry, I don't think you should be here."

"Harry?" Terry's voice called from within the room. "I think I might need some help."

"Shut up," Juliet's voice hissed. "You don't get to talk, you fuck -"

"Juliet, calm down," Stanthorpe rumbled. He looked past me, Su and Ron and winced. "I did _not_ want a crowd for this. Most everyone's still at the hall, but I just got back here when I heard the commotion. Screaming, yelling, banging." A dark look crossed over his face. "She wants Fortess here, now."

But why, exactly? I left Ron and Su where they were and ventured forward, keeping my footsteps light and trying to contain my breathing. The door frame reminded me of the one to the master bedroom at Malfoy Manor, and opening _that_ door had nearly stopped my heart in my chest... This door was already open, but the scene inside was no less hair-raising, and I didn't feel entirely thankful for the open door.

Juliet's room was yet another display in Spartan decorations, and was painted the same grey colour as the hallway was. The only splash in colour came from the shadows dancing on the walls, an eerie green colour brought on by the lampshade surrounding a candle on the bedside table, sitting next to the bed against the left wall. Her bedcovers were dark and ruffled, and a set of drawers took up the right side of the room, and a covered window, the blinds grey of course, sat directly in front of me. I took that in and looked for something, anything, that would've made it definitely Juliet's, and I eventually spotted the framed photo on the bedside table. Three people stood together in the picture, and when I titled my head, I could at least identify Aaron Fortess, a younger Juliet, and a pretty woman with dark hair I assumed was Tess, Aaron's wife and later, the reason for his new identity.

Terry Boot was pressed up against the set of drawers, his eyes wide and his hands raised. His straw-coloured hair was askew, his glasses were on the ground beside the bed, and he looked distinctly dishevelled, and indignantly upset. His eyes flashed in relief as he saw me. "Oh thank Merlin," he said. "Harry, you have to get me out of here. She's gone crazy."

I looked at Juliet O'Flynn, standing in front of the bed. She was actually pretty cute when she wasn't scowling, and today was no exception. Ignoring the look on her face, her brown hair cascaded to the back of her neck, messy and untamed, and she had a slim, toned, body, her legs contained in a pair of jeans, her upper body in a white tank top. Her eyes darted my way when I entered, but the gun pointed at Terry's head never wavered.

"Okay, I don't quite know what's going on..." But I stepped forward into the room anyway. True to my prediction, Juliet's gun stayed pointed at Terry, and her scowl deepened at my move.

"Take one more step and I'll shoot him," she hissed.

"_Juliet_," Stanthorpe said clearly, standing next to Ron in the doorway. "It's okay. Aaron is coming."

Juliet's eyes were filled with rage, I noticed, and I appealed to Terry first. "Mate, what -"

"Nothing, nothing, dammit, nothing." Terry shook his head quickly. "I did nothing. We were having dinner in the town hall, she invited me back here, then -"

"Shut up!" Juliet spat.

"Something _almost_ happened," Stanthorpe murmured. "She reacted. Better than most would, and wants Fortess to deal with it. To deal with him."

"Deal with him why?" Though I had a sinking feeling on what she was accusing him of...

"I didn't do _anything_," Terry said fiercely. "I didn't touch her, she just went off, hit me, pulled the gun, and -" He let out a frustrated sigh. "Nothing. I didn't try to rape her, or whatever she's saying."

"That's _exactly_ what I'm saying," Juliet snapped. "You son of a -"

Fortess showed up then, pushing past Stanthorpe at the door and coming to stand beside me. The green light of the room served to highlight how tired he really looked. The day's events alone, and everything else in between, would be weighing on him, just as they would me. "Juliet," he said softly, calmly. "I just heard. Are you all right?"

Her anger didn't melt when she saw him. "No I am not all right! You say you heard? Then you know that I didn't _kill_ this little fuck is a miracle. Take him away, now. Kick him and his friends out, now."

"You crazy bitch," Terry said. "I didn't do -"

I shushed him, and that made Fortess truly notice me. His eyes were a calm storm as he took me in, and I met his gaze evenly. So many things left unsaid that really should've been. But now was not the time for it. He turned away from me, and to Juliet, stepping forward. "All right, this is what we're going to do," he said. "You're going to put down the gun. I will take care of this, I promise."

It struck me then, looking at Juliet, that something was off about this. The gun in her hands was held steadily. Juliet was a cast-iron kind of woman, but even she would experience shakes, even minor ones, if there was a near-miss like this. She was angry enough to push through it, sure, but there should've been _something_, a twitch or... Terry was emphatic in the fact he didn't do anything, but Juliet was sure. The thing could be... What if they just _thought_ something had happened?

"Fortess," I said immediately, stepping forward and dropping my voice to a low pitch. "It's more than how it looks, you have to -"

But with Fortess's attention drawn to me, and Juliet's eyes following him, Terry decided to make a move. I saw his hand descend down, heading to the wand strapped in its invisible holster -

Juliet noticed. She let out a little shriek of anger, and barely twitched before pulling the trigger.

Time seemed to slow down first. The ringing in my ears followed, and I seemed to register the _BANG_ of the gun second. The smell of gunpowder filled the air, tingling my nostrils like so many other burning smells. Muted and dull were the shocked cries from everyone else, especially Terry. It had barely escaped his lips when the bullet hit him, right between the eyes. It buried itself into his forehead, and that shocked look on his face, that confusion and that _pain_, was etched on his face forever.

Time sped up as blood splattered all over the walls. Terry Boot's body pitched forward and fell to the ground. It landed at Juliet's feet, and bits of his brain spat out from the impact and coated her lower legs.

The woman who pulled the trigger didn't move for a second, and neither did we. Fortess, Ron, Stanthorpe, Su, myself... All of us just looked. God, we'd seen so much we just _looked_. I saw echoes of everyone, from Cedric Diggory onwards, right up until Astoria...

Juliet lowered the gun, but she didn't drop it completely. Her eyes moved from Terry's body and to mine, as if in a dare.

I didn't take the bait.

Fortess moved forward, stepped over Terry's body, and clasped her on the shoulder in a hard, but paternal, way. He gestured to Stanthorpe, who walked forward and took the gun from her hands. Murmurs and whispers filled the hallway behind us; everyone had heard the shot.

"Stan," said Fortess.

Stanthorpe nodded. "I'll explain the situation, make sure nobody sends up any alarms."

"Good."

On his way out, Stanthorpe didn't meet mine, Ron's, or Su's eyes. He knew what was coming next.

Fortess rubbed Juliet's shoulder gently, and she finally, _finally_, broke down, her shoulders trembling and her angry expression melting into despair. Maybe it finally hit her, or maybe... Nothing had hit me yet, I'll say that much. I opened my mouth to say something, even though I had nothing planned, but Fortess cut me off.

"You are your friends are gone, now," he said firmly.

"I..." I cleared my throat. "We need to talk. Now."

"That won't change anything," Fortess said. "I have rules, especially against incidents like this. I told you, when you first came, that Granford will not tolerate a negative presence like yours. I needed guarantees, and I told you that if one of you slipped up, you'd all be gone. There's no going back. You're all gone. Within the hour."

"Then we have ten minutes to talk." I gestured my head. "Now."

He narrowed his eyes at that, but he couldn't deny that this talk needed to happen. So he nodded, accepted the force in my tone, and slowly released his hand from Juliet's shoulder. He murmured something to her, and it was enough to make her leave, her shoulders wracked with the beginning of what a normal person would call sobbing but to her seemed to be a foreign concept. She left the man she killed behind, and a gesture to Ron was enough for him to leave as well. Su had already slipped off for whatever reason, but Ron had remained. "Back to Abe's," I told him. "Pack up."

The door closed, and Aaron Fortess and me stood, staring at each other with Terry's body lying in between.

There was no use lying anymore. "I'm sorry this happened," I said. "I'm sorry a lot of things have happened, and if I listed them off, we'd be here a while. But... and dammit I don't mean to belittle what happened here, but this is more than it appears. You know what I'm talking about."

"I'd rather you say it," he said coolly.

"Magic. It's a very dangerous thing, magic, and can do a lot of things, all of which you're aware." I'd imagine Malfoy would be smart enough to let Fortess know of mind-manipulating magics, just for the sake of laying out the possibility of its existence and proving some way that he wasn't doing the same. Right now, I almost pulled my wand out and whipped up a Silencing Charm, but I didn't want to make him scared, well, more scared. "A magical compulsion, an Imperius, or a potion, or anything, could be involved. Think about it. It could've been placed on either of them. Push Terry into doing something he would never do, and make him forget when it's important, or make Juliet think she was attacked, and then the reaction would be genuine to something fake, something that didn't happen."

"Just like that," Fortess murmured. "So easy, isn't it."

It was, it would be, it could've been. I got the sudden feeling that would not make him feel any more secure, or safe, to be in a room with me.

"How much did he tell you?" I asked.

"Enough," he replied. "I know who you are, and I've heard stories. I'm not stupid enough to believe every single thing I've been told, before you say anything. I act on what I know about people, not what other people, such as a person who clearly doesn't like you very much, tells me. And you know what this gut feeling tells me, Healer Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, chair-holder of the Wizengamot? I know that you and your friends infiltrated my town, lied and deceived me. You stole my resources, and I involved you in missions that could've gotten people killed because I added unknown elements. I had to be told who you were, everything that you are, from my source after the fact. As to what you're doing here, well, your attempts to save my town seem to be misguided." Fortess's eyes went to Terry's body. "I hear that you, a known liar, tell me that he could've been the victim of magical manipulation. But what I think about is what I knew of the man. He was strange, and obsessive. He hounded after Juliet, and somehow managed to get her to trust him enough... _Juliet_ of all people. Maybe he used a magical compulsion on her, you ever think of that? Either way, he wasn't trustworthy... and neither are you."

"I'm sorry, then," I said, because what else was there to say? I genuinely was sorry, because despite the best intentions, I'd gone in over my head and come out with several deaths on my conscience. I was aiming to fix that now, and with my plan for tomorrow, but dammit, I couldn't be perfect, not ever. I could only do what I had to do. But how could I convey that to him? He was raw with distrust of wizards, and didn't know, didn't understand, about everything that Granford was about to go through.

I tried, though. "I do truly mean to save Granford, to save all those that live in it."

"Granford has no need for this plotting, or this scheming, so let me tell it to you simple: you and your friends leave now, or things will get messy." He didn't even need to point out Terry's body to me; I looked anyway, and felt sick to my stomach. Not even him; I thought of Warren, and then of Hart. A back and forth of death, which made me think of...

"You're waiting for word from Malfoy," I said, and his mouth set in a harder line. "But you can't. I don't want to be the one to tell you this, but Malfoy's dead." He very visibly didn't react. "If you didn't believe every word out of his mouth, then you know he wasn't a saint. You want to know the why of how he died? It wasn't me, or any of his enemies. It was his own fault, his own downfall being his pride, his arrogance, his surety that everything would work out for him in the end." _And it got Astoria killed too_, I reminded myself, the words tinged with pure, grief-filled, bitterness. "There's a bigger thing at play than the plots and schemes looking to use Granford like a pawn. Something darker, something more powerful, and _evil_, and something that needs to be dealt with."

Fortess just shook his head. "I haven't heard from him for a few days, but that doesn't mean I believe you, or this." He held up a hand to forestall my next comment. "I know that I may be foolish to be sceptical, and that you have no reason to lie, but that doesn't change what happened tonight. You need to go, now. And that's not a threat, but a fact. I can't help what I'll do in order to protect my town. I told you that if you broke one of the rules, you'd be gone, and the only reason I left you here before was because he told me you didn't fully know yet. But, dammit, if things have changed, how am I to know the truth of it? All I know is that Juliet, one of my closest friends, was almost hurt very badly... By one of _you_. Am I automatically supposed to believe your story, and trust it's not a manipulation? My sense of judgement has been skewed by all of this. But human nature? Terry's told me he was capable of this, and I already knew he was deceiving me with the rest of you."

"So that's your final decision?"

"Yes."

"Then what about Ellie Ogden?" I pressed. "You know her worth, her and her family. If I had to bet, that was the last thing you got from Malfoy - everything there was to know about why they're important."

"I do know why they're here, yes," Fortess said. "They're staying here, before you ask. Until I know what to do next, until I can make a call, get a hold of Malfoy or his friends."

"But he's dead," I insisted. I saw his corpse, I saw the hole Astoria drilled into her husband's head before she killed herself rather than succumb to the bite he gave her.

"No harm will come to them. I am not a monster." He shook his head. "If there's nothing else, yourself, Mr Weasley, Mr MacMillan and Mr Longbottom will be escorted back to gather your things, and -"

An idea hit me; dammit, I was about to deceive him again. "And Su?"

He looked surprised. "What about her?"

"You know."

"Know... what, exactly?"

Right at the start, when I first met him, Fortess had commented on her quietness. She'd been a shadow for the past fortnight, keeping as quiet as I'd asked her to. The way she forced herself into coming... and then staying so quiet, so unassuming, a fly on the wall, a shadow in the corner of everyone's eye. She didn't even need magic to do it, she just did. She wanted to be useful, she wanted to make her place on this group mean something, and she just did. This was all her plan, and it had worked like a charm. Fortess hadn't even _mentioned_ her.

"She's not one of us," I lied, bald-facedly, but I was desperate enough. "You picked up on it back then, guessed she was someone we rescued from somewhere. You were right. We found her in the company of a group of men, the bad kind, whose supplies and hideout we took for ourselves in order to sell the infiltration. We kept her with us then because it would've led to questions, and we just wanted her to be happy here. We didn't involve her, we didn't do anything but take her somewhere safe. Are you going to kick her out too? Are you going to take her away from here, after what almost happened to Juliet? What does your gut say?"

His gut should've been telling him I was lying again. My own stomach felt sick for doing it like this, but I had to try.

And maybe a small part of Fortess wanted to believe that story, taking it for a peace offering of a sort, for he nodded slowly.

"Now, one more thing to say," I said seriously. "Whatever you do, you cannot kill Theodore Nott, the prisoner in the station. You truly shouldn't. You know there's something strange about him."

Fortess absently rubbed his bruised knuckles on his leg. "I have."

"There's a good reason for that. He's a weapon, not to me, not to Draco, but his death will take Granford to a hell nobody will survive. All of this fighting will be for nothing if he dies. Even if you don't trust literally anything else I say, _trust this_. Not on my life, but Draco Malfoy would've agreed."

"I need not remind you that I'm not in the habit of killing people."

This time, I was the one to use Terry's body to prove a point. "Not just you I'm worried about."

His back went rigid, and his eyes turned from a calm pre-storm to the beginnings of a true, raging, monstrous hurricane. "As far as everyone else is concerned, his body has nowhere else to go outside these walls. He'll be burned, tonight."

I gritted my teeth. "Fine." No less than I gave Warren. The sanctity of the dead didn't mean all that much when ninety-nine percent of the world's population were walking corpses themselves, after all.

Aaron Fortess had nothing else to say but, "I think it's time you left Granford behind, Harry Potter."

..::..-.-..::..

"I'll be back," I assured Ellie. Her eyes were shining in concern and fear, and she was clutching and twisting the hem of her shirt. We were alone in my room; she'd volunteered to help me pack immediately, even though there wasn't much in the way of packing to do.

"But I don't understand -"

I zipped up my bag and hoisted it over my shoulders. I crossed the room and squeezed her shoulder, trying and probably failing to smile reassuringly. "I need you to remember everything I told you. The stakes are higher than ever, and if you're back here, I especially need you to be strong, for all of this. Practise the Patronus Charm."

She frowned. "Why would I need to -"

"It'll be Dementors," I explained to the whole group when we returned to downstairs. The pub area was packed with all of us: the Ogdens, my group, Abe and Hit-Wizard Strauss. Ellie hadn't left my side since earlier, and I kept my eyes on her more than anyone else. Neville, Ernie, Ron and Su, I especially didn't try to look at. The absence of Terry, and the reminder of why he wasn't here, _hurt_. "The escape plan we went over hasn't changed. The broomsticks, remember."

"But Dementors?" Gladys Ogden asked, sitting on one of the tables with her daughter. "Are you sure?"

I nodded. "Very sure. I'm not worried about Malfoy's plots anymore, it's Nott I'm worried about..." That got a few blank faces from the Ogdens, but Abe and Strauss shared grim expressions. I heard Ernie swear, too. "The escape plan still stays as is. You'll need to follow it while we're not here."

"Why don't we just leave?" Amaris Ogden demanded. That usual fire, and bitchiness, seemed put-upon. Even she would get tired of being provocative eventually, and fear seemed to win out today. Dementors brought that out in people. "Why?"

"It goes back to Fortess, and why you're here in the first place," I told her. "He's kicking us out tonight because Terry and Juliet were played as part of a plan Malfoy enacted, for whatever reason, before he died."

"Ron told us, but..." Strauss trailed off.

"He really bite it?" Abe finished in his usual gruff tone.

"Long story behind it," I replied. "It hinders us more than anything else, given how we have to handle Nott -"

"And Astoria?" Neville asked quietly, his arms crossed.

"What did Ron tell you, Neville?"

"That she died too."

"And that's what happened," I said crisply. "Gale died too. And now Terry. That's three too many in one day."

He said nothing.

Gladys coughed politely. "You didn't answer Amaris's question, dear."

I nodded to her. "Fortess is kicking us out because of Terry, and maybe just because he's sick of all the lying. Regardless, I need to ensure some cooperation, and he wasn't going to budge about keeping you three here. Because, like I told Ellie, I intend to come back. There's some business to be done first, but within in the next twenty-four hours, I'll be back, and I won't leave until Nott's taken care of, and until I get all of you out safely. Fortess and I still have a lot of ground to cover."

"Well then," said Abe, nodding with approval. "We'll keep 'em safe here."

Strauss echoed him.

Su perked up in her seat at the bar and said, "You better come back."

"Twenty-four hours," I assured. Su knew that her plan to stay as unassuming as possible might yet come in handy, and here it was. She would be staying to watch the police station and still managing the Ogdens as she could. I'd talked it over with her briefly, and she was good to stay. So, with that out of the way, I moved from her and to the others. "Until then, keep safe."

The group shared goodbyes, and Ron took off the Silencing Charm around the door before opening it, nodding to Auror Strong outside, who'd be escorting us to the bridges. Ron, Neville and Ernie left first, but something made me wait. Her name was Ellie.

"I'll be back for you, and your family," I said, not refusing the offer of her hand. I squeezed it, and smiled again. Again, I doubt it looked genuine - I didn't have one in me right now. "Good luck."

"You too," she said quietly. For a second, it looked she was about to do something else; she looked at those watching us, then to our clasped hands, and indecision flickered and flashed on her face...

I made the decision for her, pulling away before anything could happen. I didn't want, or need, it. Not after Astoria.

I quashed any and all guilt by the time I left Abe's pub.

..::..-.-..::..

Back when I had been first planning the infiltration, I had set up a communication with Granford via their long-range radio system, which they used to send out calls to all those in need of their help, and which they also received distress calls from those outside. I set up myself and my friends as students who were on a camping trip when things all went to hell, and told those listening on the other end of the radio that we heard about this town, this place safe from the undead. A thousand people lived in this place, came the first reply. A _thousand_ people. Said in the most reverent of tones, crackled through the static of the radio.

That comment told me everything I needed to know about Stanthorpe. He was one of the three who had ventured into zombie-infested London to rescue six strangers, and out of those three, he was the one who wanted to be there the most, because the number one thousand and six was something worth risking his life for.

Fittingly, he was the one to lead us the way we came in, though there were only the four of us to lead. We crossed the Tent Bridge first, navigating through the tents and the sentries, wet and miserable from the earlier rain. We walked the road out from the bridges, hearing the rushing water of The Trickler, the river surrounding Granford on three sides, taper off in the distance. The trail was dark all the way to the gas station just outside the ward boundary line, where Stanthorpe was to let us go on from.

"Fortess said you wouldn't need a car," he said, frowning. "I don't agree with that, just so you know. This whole situation... I want to believe it's a misunderstanding, that your friend's actions don't reflect on your own... But since I can't know one story from another, I will just have to offer my apologies. Even with the coming winter, we shouldn't be so careless with your lives out here. If I could, I'd get you a car."

"Thanks for trying, Stan," I said, holding out my hand to shake. "But we'll survive."

He shook my hand firmly. "I hope everything turns out for you lot. Stay safe, you hear? You may be saying goodbye to Granford, but there's still hope, even in the wastelands."

I could get behind that idea. I didn't tell him I'd be back, or that I'd be back so soon. Stanthorpe wasn't involved in anything beyond doing his duty to protect the town he loved. I respected the man too much to get him involved in this, to use him against Fortess. After what happened with Astoria, Gale and Terry, I'd like to think I'd learned my lesson about getting those involved that shouldn't be. The world's screwed up enough, so why add more pain? No point to it.

Stanthorpe and I released our handshake, and I nodded at him. "Tell Leeson I said goodbye, and tell him to stay away from lifting heavy things on his arm." Stanthrope chuckled, and I almost echoed him. "Keep an eye on everyone for us. Especially Fortess."

"I always try," the older man replied, and that was that.

Ron, Neville, Ernie and I walked for a few minutes after leaving the gas station, even though we all knew we didn't have to. We followed the cracked highway road, burdened by our backpacks and our experiences, and not one thing to be said between us. The night air was still, but cold, cold enough to make me shiver through my jacket. It wasn't until Neville brought out his wand and casting a Warming Charm that the moment of pretending was broken, and all of us stopped walking.

Somehow, we had scaled to the top of a grass hill, overlooking farmlands to the east and the highway leading west. Behind us lay Granford, only visible by small pinpricks of light on the horizon, fully cloaked in the night's shadow. For a second, my mind went to another hill overlooking another town, a town swallowed by the Dementor's mist. Liliford, with just as much to lose as Granford, and already lost to vile creatures of despair and Theodore Nott, less of a man and more of a shell, fuelled by his twisted sanity, deadened to all feeling but the bad ones, because that's what his masters left him with.

"I'm going to call a Wizengamot meeting," I told the others to break the silence. Ron and Ernie both nodded understandably, and while Neville looked up, he didn't meet my eyes. "Malfoy's death means we have to act quick." I gestured to the satchel I'd kept close ever since Malfoy Manor, the one filled with rolls of parchment detailing Draco's plans. "Hopefully these will hinder the other side enough for my next move to work. Hopefully."

Ron smiled a ghost of a smile. "Malfoy'd be laughing himself sick if he knew we could actually use his help right now."

The thought didn't make me smile. "Yeah, well, having read some of his notes, I doubt he would've accepted any help, and probably would've turned around and destroyed Granford after taking care of Nott." I shook my head. "No, Malfoy was behind a lot of plots, and a lot of plans, but he was still him. He couldn't escape his nature, just like I can't escape mine. If he was actually still alive when I visited, I'd probably try to kill him again, and _that_ would get more people killed than him and Ast... Astoria."

"You've been kind of vague on things," said Ernie. "But I can understand. I know I haven't helped you in the Wizengamot side of things before now, but if you need it, I'll help bounce ideas, or..."

I shook my head again. "No need, but thanks. I've got this next move handled, as soon as I see Ogden."

"So this is it, then?" Neville asked. "We're really going to leave Granford to Nott and the Dementors?"

"I don't like it either, but how else could it have gone down? I put charms up earlier, and Fortess has assured me he won't kill him, and we've got Su keeping an eye... but that's the best I can do without Malfoy. I had no idea how to get Nott out - my first idea would've been to evacuate the whole town, burn it, and bury Nott in the rubble. But I can't do that without having somewhere for the Muggles to go, and I can't do that without the disclosure bill, not to mention I'd need Fortess's cooperation..." I sighed wearily. "And whatever plan ended up with Fortess's second-in-command getting targeted and Terry being killed threw that out of the window."

"And there's another thing," said Neville. "Harry, how are we going to explain this to Terry's uncle? How are we... Terry died because of us."

"Because of _me_," I corrected. "And because of himself, and because of Juliet O'Flynn, and Fortess, and Malfoy and... You know enough to tell Antioch Boot the truth. It happened to Hart, didn't it? Just another plan."

Neville frowned severely. "Another death."

"I will fix this, Neville," I said with resolve. "Trust me."

"I do."

But he still wouldn't meet my eyes. He'd backed a lot of my moves over the past year, but what happened to Sarah still overshadowed our friendship, or what was left of it. I almost killed him, even though he was no enemy. That knowledge, that I had an unstable moment, had been gnawing at Neville for a while, no doubt, and my behaviour recently probably didn't fill him with confidence. Not only that, but something had changed with him, and I'd only just noticed. Every action of his, every one, had been fuelled by something big... Suffice it to say, there was a way to fix our divide, but not tonight.

"I am sorry," I told the three. "Terry was a good friend. As crazy as Luna Lovegood when he wanted to be, but he still wanted to help, and he _was_ helpful. You were too, all of you."

"We tried our best." Ron nodded. "And I'll be up to help you again in the morning, mate, _especially_ if it means figuring out a way to give that cunt Nott his just desserts, but tonight, I'm going to go catch up with my alcohol intake. I am very much in need of a drink."

He gave me a little salute, turned on the spot, and paused. The bloody cricket bat he'd brought with him into this was still in his hands, and among the things he had walked out of Granford with. He considered it for a moment, and eventually dropped it onto the grass. Without another look, he disapparated with a _crack_. Neville followed after telling us he'd go tell Susan and Terry's uncle what happened, and left me and Ernie alone on the hill.

"I meant what I said, Harry," Ernie said seriously. "I was wary to get too involved, but I'm in now."

"But you've played your part," I said. "Practical experience, remember? You wanted to see how the Muggles did things for yourself. I can swing overtime pay if you're still wanting that."

He chuckled. "Not about that anymore. I know I was a bit skittish at the start, and I know I probably didn't help much at all in the end, but I still... Thank you, Harry, for bringing me there. I had to see to truly understand how they're just like us. The Muggles aren't what the wizarding world sees them as, especially now. They're people trying to survive, and they're doing a damn good job at it."

"They are, aren't they?"

"And this experience, I needed. Not just for me, not just to help you, but for the sake of the future. When the disclosure bill passes, and I'm not joking or just being positive by saying 'when' instead of 'if', a lot of things will need to be smoothed over, but most importantly, we have to understand how they do things, so they can learn how we work when we teach them. This, my experience, will help so many things back at the office. It's been better than I could've asked for."

I hadn't seen it coming, but if anybody would know if it would be helpful or not, it would be Ernie MacMillan, one of those tasked at the Ministry to marry the wizard and Muggle ways of doing this together when the bill passes. When, not if. That was the important thing. Ernie still believed.

"No regrets," he said. "Even with Terry... I'm sure he would've felt the same, in his own quirky way. Don't beat yourself up on Muggle relations, not yet. I know people now, and they know me. Might help."

"But there's still the Wizengamot," I pointed out. "Not to mention Nott."

"And which is your priority?"

"Tomorrow? The Wizengamot. After that, Nott, though that's not quite right. Really, all of this? Nott. Granford. Stop one, save the other."

"I don't know how much help I'll be with Nott," Ernie admitted. "But I can help with the Wizengamot. My father's vote. And when you get my father's vote, you'll get Smith's vote. Two votes to your bill."

"I seem to recall your father and you left on frosty terms. He was upset you left to help me in Granford." I frowned as a thought struck me. "I assured him you'd be safe. You did come out in one piece, but Terry didn't."

"But that apology is for you to give to Terry's uncle, not my father," said Ernie. "I can help with that too, and I'm sure Neville can set up Antioch Boot to forgive you for this, or to work past it towards the disclosure bill. But my father, and Smith, I can help with. Maybe not all the way, but if I convince him of enough, convince him that ultimately, my decision was for the best, the opportunity will be there. My father's just scared, and I can help that. The rest will be up to you, but I have no doubt you'd win him over."

It was nice to see such loyalty in these murky days. My allies and my friends were who they were for a reason, and Ernie's plan was something that would be needed. He didn't hold anything against me, not even after everything. It felt nice.

I held out my hand to shake, and Ernie clasped it in a hard, but warm, grip, similar to his father in that regard. "Goodbye, then," I said. "Thanks again."

"Whatever needs to be done," he replied.

After he disapparated, I took one last look at Granford off in the distance. The pinpricks of light were dropping off as the night got deeper. Before I prepared myself to disapparate to Hogwarts, I knew this wasn't the end for me and Granford. Not just the town, but the people inside, a thousand and more, friends, allies, enemies both true and misguided, and the people in between, the ones all working toward a better future in their own little ways. Granford would come later, _soon_, but the Wizengamot awaited me now.

..::..-.-..::..

I found Tiberius Ogden in his office, nursing a drink and sorting through a pile of parchments, his eyes bloodshot with tiredness behind square-rimmed reading glasses. The office was dim, with a single candle on his desk providing the only light source in the room. It wasn't cold, not with the Room of Requirement's temperature being moved up and down at will, but felt no less detached, distant.

He didn't look up when I entered, but I had no doubt he knew it was me. "The Aurors are over at Malfoy Manor now," he informed. "I knew ahead of time thanks to your tip-off, but it was officially called in by Leo Parkinson. Said he was there for a dinner with Selwyn and Bulstrode when he found half the mansion on fire."

"And how'd they swing it?" I asked, setting myself down at a chair across from Ogden's, his desk and more dividing us. "They just ignored the evidence that Malfoy kept zombies as his pets?"

"They've been ignoring several citizens of Fairlane's use of them in the same manner," said Ogden, shrugging. "Bigger issues, and I have no doubt Parkinson and Selwyn were there on hand to pay several of the investigators off, and they'd be sure to cover their tracks in later paperwork." He reached into his desk and pulled out a bottle of his favourite scotch, aiming to pour its contents into an empty glass he already had set on his desktop. He filled it halfway, screwed the lid on the bottle, and gestured for me to take the drink.

"It's not poisoned, is it?" I asked.

He snorted. "Not this time, I triple-checked."

I took a gulp, and let the alcohol burn down my throat. "No mention of Gale?"

Ogden matched me, draining the rest of his glass. "Gale's gone missing, but I got this..." He held up one of the letters from his desk. "His resignation."

"He should've been in the manor with the others." His death flashed in my mind, hot blood spilling out, Draco Malfoy forcing me to watch him die to spite me... "Guess they're going to save his corpse for another time."

Ogden started. "He's dead?"

"Saw it happen," I said bitterly. "He outlived his usefulness to Malfoy, and he died because of it."

"Aurors say there was signs of a struggle..."

"A fight. It was a fight. Because of Gale, because of everything."

"Robards thinks you're involved with the deaths."

"Of course he does. Malfoy's looks like a zombie-related accident, though, doesn't it? Or is Robards being pushed by Selwyn and Parkinson?"

"No, I very much doubt that. It's just that, after what's happened to the others, and given that you haven't been going out of your way to talk to him lately, he's more than a little put out. He told me to tell you that you promised to keep him in the loop."

"I'll be talking to him soon," I promised. "Wouldn't want a murder investigation getting in the way of what's coming next."

"And what is coming next, Harry?" Ogden asked, boring his eyes, magnified through his glasses, into mine.

"Plenty of things. All of them bad. Granford's in danger from something... some _things_, we all forgot in the midst of our own politics. The Dementors aren't coming to destroy the place - they're already there, lying in wait, and when one man dies, they'll be rushing to devour the place from the inside out." I elaborated as he poured himself another drink, about Nott and Liliford and how bad things would get if the Dementors used Granford as a new breeding ground. When I was done, I finished with, "... Draco Malfoy wanted the Dementors stopped more than he wanted the Muggles killed. When I went to see him tonight, it was because of that."

Ogden leaned back in his chair and removed his glasses. "A complex situation," he said, rubbing at his eyes. "And my family's in the middle of it."

Don't I just know it. I didn't need the reminder. "Astoria Greengrass was able to take advantage of Malfoy's death, getting around a magical binding he placed upon her when they married a year ago. The binding dissolved, and she unlocked all the right doors for me. I have Draco's notes, in this satchel. I haven't gone over that many of them, but I've learnt some things, little things that slipped through the cracks. Like why he never just had me or you killed outright."

"Go on," Ogden said.

"I'm still a big figure in our world, as much as I try not to be. I relied on that to get me some support in the Wizengamot once upon a time, and with that, and being a prominent Healer, a former Auror, and my work on Kingsley's scavenging team... I was important to our little world. Killing me would've either ignited enough rage to make finding out who did it a top priority, and that might've been something Malfoy couldn't escape. Worse, my side could've made me into a martyr, which would not have ended well at all. That didn't stop him from having plans, very detailed ones, about how I'd be killed. They got more and more complex as time went on and he had to adapt, but eventually he decided that I would get myself killed - going into Granford like I did was a death sentence, he said. Not only that, but he definitely wanted to destroy me and make me obsolete before killing me out some kind of petty revenge. I kinda get the feeling he would've succeeded if the disclosure bill got shot down."

"And while things have obviously changed, should you still be afraid for your life?"

"Nothing to fear, because I was knew my life was in some kind of danger," I said with a shrug. "And now...? Need I say again about Nott and the Dementors? Draco's side's been marginalised, and if they haven't, they will when I finish his notes."

Ogden nodded understandably. "What did he have to say about me?"

"He didn't think much of you, and knew every button to push as far as your family was concerned. The thing with the hair of the Auror? A bluff. The poisoning wasn't, but he knew I wouldn't let you die, and since he wouldn't lose either way, he didn't care. He was good like that."

"Lucky he's dead and I'm not, then." He raised his glass with a grim smile, and downed the rest of its contents.

"Not yet, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't keep checking your scotch. If these notes also included plans for Malfoy's lackeys and mouthpieces, taking them out of their hands might make them reckless, stupid. Keep on your guard... because I might not be there to help."

His eyebrows went up at that. "And why not?"

"I need you to something for me."

"Name it."

"Emergency Wizengamot meeting."

"When?"

"Tomorrow. Think you can angle it?"

"Of course, if there's special circumstances."

There was. I explained to Ogden what I was going to do, and how I was going to do it. I didn't know if I had any favours to call in with him, but I called them anyway because I needed him, and this would ultimately lead to his family's safety. When I was done, he nodded. "I'll set the meeting up for tomorrow, at noon."

"I'll be ready," I said, standing from my chair. "For now, I've got a long night of reading to do." Sleep seemed unlikely now, but I don't think it'll be a problem. I was focused enough on the task at hand.

"Harry," Ogden said before I could leave. "I'm sorry about Astoria Malfoy's death. And your friend Terry's."

And all I said in reply was, "I'm sorry too."

"If this gets my family back safe, then there's nothing to be sorry for," he said simply. "Go on, now. I'll take care of things on my end."

I nodded, and left the Chief Warlock to his work. This gesture was enough, I knew, enough to galvanise him again, to push him forward. The danger his family was in wasn't something that could be truly controlled, not anymore, and he wanted to do as much good as he could before anything happened to them, or him. Just like me, Tiberius Ogden knew the score. He wouldn't let me down.

..::..-.-..::..

Dawn broke over a jagged hill, and I saw it all. The first inkling of light appeared an hour ago, casting vague shadows of the tree I sat under, and on all of the stones half-buried in the earth in front of me. I had put down the note I was reading - detailing the various weaknesses on his side that he handled along the way - and watched the night sky grow lighter and lighter, until faded lines of pink and orange appeared, and the sun still followed. When it was risen enough to cast a shine on the hill - my hill - I basked in its warmth for a moment. The promise of a new day, started with a shining dawn, washed over me, cleansing all the uncertainty and power of the night. Wizards and witches believed in a certain power that came with the dawn, and while I wasn't so sure, I felt enough to know my course, my plan, was the best one.

The next time I saw a dawn break, I wanted all of this to be over. I'd be dead before I wouldn't let that come to fruition, I just knew.

My night had spent on my memorial hill, a warded and secluded slice of the world I came to think, just beyond the long-charred ruin of the house Sarah grew up in. My back was up against a great sentinel, a tree more eternal than so many other things, with roots growing into the hill and maybe even making it as large as it was. Warming Charms had kept the night's chill away from my skin, though the things I'd read in Draco's handwriting hadn't kept me feeling all that warm on the inside. His writing was dispassionate, and his notes were complex and half of them written in a cipher he seemed to keep consistent when it suited him. But I got through the relevant parts easy enough, and the picture all became pretty clear. While it wouldn't all help against the Wizengamot, some of it would help when I deal with Fortess next...

The sun was hanging in the sky and the morning was well underway when a bright and familiar Patronus glided up the grass and settled beside me. "Antioch Boot wants to talk to you," said Susan's voice, issuing out of the badger's mouth softly. "Before the meeting, he said, and just to you, alone."

I knew that was coming and knew it was unavoidable, so pushed my back off of the tree in preparation to stand up. However, the Patronus hadn't left yet; my mind remembered Astoria's instead, telling me to come quick... Not quick enough to be there for her.

"Harry..." Susan's voice trailed off. "I heard about what happened, and if it means anything now, I'm sorry. Neville and I are worried about you, so even if you don't come see us before the meeting, at least let us know you're okay, and that you're not going to do anything rash."

"Depends on your definition of the word," I murmured.

"... talk to you later, okay?" The Patronus nodded its head, its message done. It turned tail and glided back the way it came, fading into a white wisp of light in the distance.

I gathered the note I was reading and placed it back in the satchel with the others. Standing, I stretched and let my bones crack and creak, and a tired yawn escaped me - not the kind of tired yawn that made me want to sleep, but the kind that was in preparation for what was next. Before I could leave... My gaze went to the stones in the ground, nine in all.

I thought about adding one for Terry, and wondered what mark would best describe him.

I thought about adding one for Astoria.

Yeah, I pushed past that latter feeling pretty quickly. It still hadn't hit me yet, her death, and I really didn't want to be there when it finally did.

..::..-.-..::..

"It's nice here," said Antioch Boot.

"It's raining," I pointed out.

"That's what makes it nice."

We stood on the edge of the Great Lake of Hogwarts, an expanse of water turned murky grey in colour by the weather, the clouds hanging overhead releasing their loads the lake, the tents on the lawn, the castle to the side, and our heads. Boot lived in the castle after his homestead had been destroyed in the outbreak, and spent the majority of his days in the Hogwarts library or out in Hogsmeade, not quite having a job but still keeping himself busy. After I found him in his room, dropping by and informing him that Susan's message had reached me, he offered to take me for a walk. The two of us had headed out here for our talk at his behest, and I wasn't about to say no to a man in mourning.

I pushed my wet fringe out of my vision, and said, "I am sorry."

"So you've said, and I accept your apologises. I know you're sincere."

Good to know. "But are we going to have an issue, Boot? The circumstances are probably not painting the Muggles in the best light, I know, but -"

"My nephew wouldn't have been who he was if he didn't take risks," said Boot. "He gets bored, and complacent, and he never liked that. Might be why he liked being friends with you."

"Didn't get him anywhere good," I remarked.

"And yet it doesn't change where my votes goes," he said firmly. "Terry told you my history, didn't he? I stayed neutral at the worst possible time. He Who Must Not Be Named had control, and I was too concerned with my family's image to take on the cause I was meant to... Yours, the one Albus Dumbledore died for. Terry helped me see that, you know, in that way of his." He chuckled hollowly. "And now, with all of this, you know what he did? He came up to me about a day before your first meeting, and told me that I was voting your way, whatever the cost. No provocation, no preamble, he just told me. This incident won't change things."

"Even with Terry's death?"

"Even with Terry's death." He nodded. "He was the one who pushed me for this, but I didn't need to be pushed far. This bill is the right thing. He saw it, I see it. It's that simple."

I considered the man. "I once had reservations about you, you know."

"I know."

"Your neutrality, the convenience in you choosing your side when it only looked like we were going to win... Never sat right. But... Sometimes, people surprise you."

Maybe it was just the man's nature, or just a facet of the way he was made, formed, into a player of the great Wizengamot game. Either way, Terry was the Boot that mattered, and with him dead... I hadn't expected Antioch to keep on the right path, and he was right about one thing: the bill was the right course of action. Everything I've done has revolved around getting that bill passed, because it was _right_, damn it. Right.

There under the sheeting rain on the edge of the Great Lakes, I thanked Antioch Boot sincerely. "Your support's been great, and again, I'm sorry about Terry."

"You're a Healer, and you know the only thing to do in this situation is to give it time. Death happens." He wasn't quite as dismissive as it sounded; his eyes were bloodshot from a lack of sleep and in his grief. But, like me, he had something to be fighting for, to push past that grief. "I know it doesn't seem likely given my past, but Boots go all in when they see something worth chasing after." He smiled hollowly. "Even if it kills us."

..::..-.-..::..

My robes were made of a fine silk, plum in colour and heavy with the Wizengamot brooch, an elaborate gold 'W', pinned on my chest. The chair I sat on was tall, almost a throne, of plain wood at the base but with ostentatious red and gold trimmings of its own. The chair was matched by the others in the room, though their colours and look changed by family. While my chair had a circular top, Burke's was jagged, Smith's was rigidly square-shaped, and I remembered Malfoy's chair having three carved serpents for him to lean his head on, snaking up into the air like the prongs of a trident. Malfoy's chair was gone now, along with Hart's, Gale's, Harper's, Aquilla's, and Bill Weasley's - the Prewett Chair, inherited from his mother's side of the family. I briefly wondered what Astoria's Greengrass throne would've looked like, or how she would've looked sitting in it. But hers wasn't among the fifteen present, arranged in a semicircle at the front end of Hogwarts's Great Hall, all looked down upon by the high table.

Ogden, in robes of purple, black and gold, sat regally in the middle of the table, the great, pure gold, Chief Warlock's throne at his back. On the seat to his left was Samuel Stark, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement's official head and the Senior Undersecretary, today acting as the body's scribe, dictation quill at the ready. On Ogden's right, sitting in his own throne no less befitting of his status, was everybody's favourite Minister for Magic, Gawain Robards. Yes, nobody was more surprised than me when he showed up for today's meeting, but if I had to guess, it was because Ogden told him of my plan, and Robards wanted to see if I had the balls to do it. The three men of power watched us from up high, and the air grew tense, the entire Wizengamot waiting on bated breath for Ogden to speak...

"Welcome," he said. "My wizards and witches, this session of the ancient and august body, of my peers and equals, will begin as of now, mid-day, November the fourteenth, in the year two-thousand and two. The Wizengamot, created for the purpose of upholding the laws laid down a thousand years ago, and of representing the best and the brightest, the noblest and the strongest, of wizards and witches, will be called. When you hear your name and title read before your peers, you will raise your wand in reply. There will be no need for words, or for gestures beyond the one I have instructed." He raised his own wand, a spindly twist of wood as old as him and had seen better days. His eyes shifted to the left side of the room, to the seat closest to the high table. From there, he would do the whole semicircle, from Parkinson to Boot. "Leonidas Parkinson," Ogden intoned.

Parkinson raised his wand. He looked like he hadn't slept a wink of sleep in the night, but still carried a bit of swagger in his movements; Malfoy's death had rattled him, but he still wanted to look as strong as he could for his side. Parkinson's family had been stalwart supporters of Malfoy's in the same vein as the Longbottoms to Potters, so I suppose I could respect that... to a point.

Gale would've been called next. A pang of regret shot through me at that.

Neville was called instead, and I watched him raise his wand with no expression on his face. He and I hadn't talked, not since last night, but I hadn't sought his counsel for the fact I wouldn't know if he would thank me or try to stop me. There were nothing but muddy feelings between us, shattered friendships, resentment, guilt, a lack of trust, a sinking feeling of too much trust... And there was Susan.

She went after Adelle Zabini, who was after me. Every eye in the room turned my way when I raised my wand, and every eye went to Zabini for different reasons. She was a beautiful woman, but I didn't care for her or her way of choosing sides. She'd let how much gold she got vote on the issue for her. Even if I hadn't used the gold I was going to give to her in order to keep Lucas Meadowes in line, I still don't think I would've eventually bothered.

It was almost amazing how little the Wizengamot game seemed to be winnable, with the perspective I had now. The backstabbing, the corruption, the arrogance and resentment between members was all a recipe for disaster.

Which brought me back to Susan. Susan Bones, the woman who would be of more use in the future... and who could be destroyed before that could happen. She'd been put through the ringer, no less than anybody else, sure, but Susan had gone into this post-outbreak world with the ideals of justice and the law carrying the wizarding world into future peace. She wasn't idiotic enough to drop everything in the name of her moral code, but she had almost split off from my side - not my side on the vote, but as a friend and ally. Knowing all I know now, in my mind there was nothing to forgive about our little spats. I got her godfather killed, and she had more than enough reason to be angry or anything else, but... The look on her face now? She was still backing me, all the way. And that felt good.

MacMillan and Smith were called next. Angus MacMillan, Ernie's father, didn't look particularly emotional today, projecting a stern exterior and nothing else. This issue had been a particularly challenging one to MacMillan, who had run through the gamut of insecurities and fears over the Muggles. I couldn't tell right away if Ernie's words had gotten through to his father, but I suppose I'd have to find out later. Smith, a dour man who passed on his resemblance to son Zacharias, wasn't an element that could be bought or coerced from voting away from MacMillan, both Malfoy and I knew. Smith's support wasn't like the Longbottoms supporting the Potters or Parkinson supporting Malfoy, no, his friendship with Angus was closer to Ron and mine. They were friends to the end, and I could appreciate that now more than ever.

Burke and Bulstrode were next. Malfoy loyalists, the two of them, and not all that many redeeming aspects to their personalities. Burke was a gambler, and a bad one, the second-biggest liability in Malfoy's eyes, right next to the deceased Harper. Marco Bulstrode was an odd one, a loner who only owed Draco for an act of Lucius's, allowing him to dodge Azkaban a few times; life debt, naturally. Draco's notes had detailed just how lucky Bulstrode had gotten, and he had used that to get his vote no matter the cost. My side's attempts to start up bloodlline rumours about his family hadn't petered out, but Malfoy had made note of it a few times, because he never could be too sure. He had issues that way, worried about the corruptibility of his own people, which, yes, is rather ironic to me for some reason.

"Barnabus Cuffe," Ogden called out, and the man raised his wand. He was unpleasant to deal with, Cuffe, always angling for his truth in the light of everything else, for reasons I knew of in vague terms. He had lost his wife, maybe in the outbreak, maybe before, and with her gone went an excuse to stay a more right path. He'd never been an angel before, but... Malfoy hadn't been entirely sure on his own opinion towards the bill, whether he could weigh the deaths of a thousand Muggles on his conscience or not.

Moving on, as Ogden called for Christian Selwyn next. Oh, Selwyn did not look like he was in the best of moods. Slippery tongued as they came, Selwyn was the kind of man who would burn off the skin on his arm to avoid being associated with Voldemort, _twice_, after both wars. For a long time I thought him to be the true, understated, threat in the pureblood agenda because of his general intelligence and way with words being better than anybody else's, but reading the notes had proven just how much of those words were actually Draco's - Selwyn just had a way with presenting them. I would be watching him carefully today, because his visible bad mood, a far-cry to his usual oily self, might just push him into something drastic.

The right side of the room, the four men sitting in their chairs across from mine, were all my allies, and seeing them all raise their wands and nod my way once their names were called was a feeling worth keeping. These men were players too, of the game, but they knew a lot about doing the right thing in the right time, and for that, they had my respect. Dylan Brown and Danesh Patil were making up for their mistakes in the war, and had gone to great lengths to secure their business demons in check, something which had annoyed Malfoy greatly. Brown had told me once that he felt like he owed me, and Patil owed Brown for his appointment, but their votes followed my way because of the issue at hand, and them wanting to play their part. Amos Diggory was the third man, and one of the few that truly _understood_ about loss driving you forward. He was able to relate to my side of doing things because of my own losses, taking his own son's death and never blaming me for it, even back in the days that I blamed myself... Diggory was a good person, in the end.

"Antioch Boot," Ogden said with finality, his voice carrying throughout the hall and into my bones.

Boot met my eye and allowed a spark of light to envelop the tip of his wand, and that light was like a beacon in the darkness, spurning me onward into what was coming next. The only move, the best move, the _right_ move. Hope in the middle of a hall of old men, broken, corrupt and strong in their convictions. The Wizengamot, great and powerful and ancient, and I was about to tell them all to fuck off.

Because seriously, fuck the Wizengamot game, fuck playing with politics with lives on the line, and fuck sitting around and waiting for Granford to be destroyed while these men debated its worthiness to keep existing. I wasn't going to let myself be a player any longer.

It was why today's meeting was my last, after all.

"This meeting will be brief, as there is only one issue to discuss," announced Ogden. "You have all received notifications of the change in our membership. Grey Gale has resigned from his seat as of yesterday and soon after, we heard of the death of one yet another of our number. Draco Malfoy was found dead in his home just yesterday evening, by his close friends who were visiting for dinner."

"Who killed him?" Patil asked, frowning. "Your missive did not say how he was killed."

"Because it's an ongoing Ministry investigation," Robards chipped in, leaning forward in his chair. "The exact circumstances on his death and the death of his lady wife are still being investigated by my best."

"Your best who still haven't gone after the Muggles who attacked The Burrows this weekend past?" questioned Burke. "I should think -"

"The manner of his death does not concern the events of this meeting," I said firmly. Everyone's attention was on me now, and I signalled Ogden to take up the rest of his explanation before a round of Ministry-bashing could start.

"Healer Potter is correct, of course," said Ogden. "Another death to grieve, surely, but the Wizengamot must move forward and push past it lest there's even more loss. I called out fifteen names today, while just two weeks ago I called out twenty-one. Can none of you see the issue with that? It does not fill me with confidence, and there is something to be done immediately." He cleared his throat and looked me directly in the eye. _Don't screw this up_, his eyes seemed to convey, and I shot him a look back, a look that said, _I have this handled. _He nodded to himself, and directed the rest of the Wizengamot's attention towards me, saying, "Healer Potter has something to say."

I stood, and the rest of the room watched in pure, total, silence. I blocked out every one of my fellow members in the steps it took to reach to the front of the room. Before I turned, Ogden shot me another grave look, Robards eyed me with flinty curiosity, and Stark stayed remarkably emotionless, as usual, hiding everything and nothing at the same time. I turned on the spot and faced the Wizengamot again, looking past their faces and to the tops of the chairs they sat on. This wasn't like my other speeches; this one came easily, easier than any others. Because I wasn't playing the game, I was telling it to go fuck itself, and speaking from the heart was always going to be a surer bet than speaking pre-rehearsed words.

"I've been doing a lot of thinking today," I said to start, and my voice sounded so naturally strong and rang as clear as anything ever had, and that pushed me forward. "A lot of thinking. I can't claim to know everything about everybody here, but I know some things. I know that, when the outbreak struck, we became uncertain, fearful. How could the future seem at all bright, even just a little, when the world's been destroyed? Devastated by this disease, _everything_. The corpse of the United Kingdom, our homeland, picked clean by the fiendish Dementors afterwards... And then there's the winter to come, that desperate time of year when things are colder, darker, bleaker, but ultimately, I know that wizardkind will survive the winter, because we have the means and the power. The Muggles, on the other hand, are doomed if we do nothing. They've worked so hard, and so long, to survive to the level we have, and they'll never get to that. We all lost things in the devastation, sure, but they lost their identities, their livelihoods, their _everything_. The winter will come and sweep them into the waiting embrace of death, reanimation, and a hellish existence where instinct and the need for food are all there is. That's if the Dementors don't get there first, and we all know what they'll do to them is much worse than what the walking dead would _ever_ achieve. The Muggles are trying to survive, just like us, because they're people, _just like us_. This whole time I've been trying to save them, but I have been going about it in the worst possible way. We all have. You know what we all have in common? We're playing the great game, the only game, the game of the Wizengamot."

I let that sink in for a moment. My tone had reached an angry pitch, a fever of frustration pouring out of me. All my inaction had been because of the Wizengamot, and for what? "It is a disease, just as bad as The Stigma, and it will kill us all, wizards and witches and Muggles, the longer we play it. Look at what it's done!" I held up six fingers, and brought them down every time I listed off a name. "Isaac Aquilla, Hoster Harper, Artemis Hart, Grey Gale, Draco Malfoy, Astoria Greengrass. All dead because of this game. Believe what you want to believe about the conspiracies we went over yesterday, but their deaths have everything to do with the schemers on this body making plans and plots and having people threatened, injured or killed, because it benefits the game they're playing. And I... I am not exempt from this. I have lied, cheated, spread rumours, made plots and schemes. put myself and my friends in danger, put people I don't even know in danger, and it's only been recently that I've fully realised how much pain the chain reaction would cause, how one move, carefully thought out, could lead to more death. Draco Malfoy was just as bad about it, you should know. He had plans going back since the beginning, since _before_, because he knew things others didn't and took advantage. He was so caught up that when he died in his arrogance, less than twenty-four hours ago, he doomed so many. Because the true threat out there is not the undead or the Muggles or ourselves, _it's the Dementors_. It's always been the Dementors. Draco's side constantly reminded us of that, but since he disagreed with me on how to deal with the Muggle situation, he doomed us all because he refused to let us be _united_ against this threat."

A hollow laugh escaped my throat. "And I didn't help. Weeks ago, before I saw Liliford engulfed in the mist, I saw a Dementor swoop down and administer the Kiss to a member of my scavenging team, a kid barely out of his teens. You know what happened next? The kid stood up, and tried to kill us, tried to eat us. It was a zombie, but he was still alive. The Dementor managed to suck out enough of his soul to get its fill, and left a fragment of the instinctual, predatory, need to feed behind. He was faster, he was stronger, and while he died the same way, if a group of Dementors managed to turn a group of us, the chaos that would ensue...? I couldn't even imagine it. And one day that group of Dementors will be at our doorstep as an army, and they'll get this army from eating Granford, just like they ate Liliford. I kept this information, this and so much more, to myself, and why? I saw a tragic event and realised a horrifying revelation... and I wanted to use it, for this, for you all, for... This game."

And look where it's gotten me, and everyone else. Look at what the coming winter would do to us when the Dementors made their move. They would finish the job the outbreak began, the outbreak that went all the way back to Voldemort's experiments. One, long, mad, impossible, chain of events.

"I'm resigning my chair today, right now," I said quietly. "I'm putting us back in evenstall, but I don't care about that. You know why? Because it shouldn't matter. This vote, this wanting to pass the bill in the old, traditional, ways, is bullshit. Granford, the last bastion of surviving Muggles so close and yet so far, is in serious danger from the Dementors. Nobody here can act on it without the disclosure bill, and that disgusts me. How will you all live with yourselves if the Muggles end up dead? How will you all survive the long term if the Dementors have their army?" I shook my head. "I intend to go what needs to be done, to save what needs to be saved. I can't heal the Wizengamot, or save it from itself. I don't care if it breaks every law we have, I'm still going to try because it's the right thing to do, and I should've done it from the start. I want to try and live with myself when all's said and done, and this is how I'm going to do it. The question is..." I trailed off. "Are any of _you_ going to do the right thing to achieve the same?"

I was greeted by blissful silence, slowly walking back to my chair as the Wizengamot took one great, deep, breath.

Then, Neville spoke. "I move to call for a vote."

"Seconded," said Susan Bones.

"Thirded," said Antioch Boot.

Chief Warlock Ogden nodded. "Then we are agreed; it's about time something was done. This bill has stagnated the body into diverting attention away from the important issues. It should have never been a question in the first place... It is time we voted, once and for all."

"I must say otherwise," Selwyn protested. "Draco Malfoy's death is a blow to us all, and while Healer Potter's resignation is something worth celebrating, the fact is that the Wizengamot can't move forward while in evenstall -"

"Then it will be resolved, and very soon," Ogden said.

"We are moving much too quickly -"

"Shall we vote on when to call the vote, then, Selwyn?" Ogden said. "I seem to recall that you were always one of the first to push for the vote as soon as possible."

"Circumstances have changed -"

"And yet, some have not." Ogden's eyes went steely with his resolve. "I am the Chief Warlock, and the decisions surrounding the vote begin and end with me. This has gone on long enough."

Selwyn's mouth flapped open and shut, and I knew then, without a doubt, his fire had been tempered by Malfoy's death and Astoria pointing me towards Draco's notes. I felt rather victorious about that.

"I move that the vote will be called right away, tonight, after a recess and the evenstall situation has been resolved," said Ogden. "Any objections?" There were none, unless you counted Selwyn crossing his arms in anger. "Good. Healer Potter has detailed to me the exact nature of the threat facing Granford, and the threat that would reach us soon after, and it is because of that that I wish for the vote to be called, and the fates of the Muggles sealed before they are outright destroyed. For the bill to pass and for emergency action to be taken in order to save Granford, a two-thirds majority vote must be counted. Failure to get that vote will result in the disclosure bill being shelved until further review, unless a vote is called to save it from ever seeing the light of day again."

"Given the seriousness of the situation, and the need for no more..." Robards searched for the word, frowning through his trimmed beard. "... Snags, in this process, I will have to ask that all of the members of the Wizengamot stay within the confines of the castle grounds. Rooms will be supplied and you will be kept as comfortable as possible, and your safety will be guaranteed by two Aurors detailed to each member. Further concerns or questions can be fielded to myself or Mr Stark, here."

Ogden nodded in agreement. "I leave you all now to your thoughts, and one of my own: this crisis is real, this threat is real, and now more than ever we have to be the best we can be. I encourage everyone here to do the right thing, or... as Healer Potter said, the Wizengamot is nothing more than a disease. I should very much not like for that to be true. If any of you have a solution to the evenstall, come forward." He raised his wand, and golden sparks shot out. "Dismissed."

He stood, and Robards and Stark did the same. Stark rolled up the day's dictation before following them out, leaving the Wizengamot members, and myself, alone for the Ritual of Shaking Hands. The ritual was the sort of thing that allowed for brief words between members, people wishing others luck, or making jokes or disparaging them the best they could, but today, everyone else shaking hands was quiet, and the only words exchanged happened when they came to me.

Brown and Patil were friendly and supportive, their handshakes conveying their encouragement, their promises to do the right thing when the vote came. Diggory was much the same, relaying that he understood why I was doing things, and just as supportive. Burke, Bulstrode and Parkinson all avoided me, and I made sure to grab Selwyn's hand and watch him try and fail to smirk triumphantly; there was nothing to be triumphant about, after all. Zabini, beautiful and deadly, had a dainty handshake filled with nothing, her features disdainful at my very existence - think I dodged a bullet by not going after her, in the end.

"I am reminded of the last time we shook," Cuffe said when I got to him. "It seems things have escalated."

"To put it lightly. Are you willing to listen to what I have to say, Cuffe? About you, about why you are the way you are?"

His eyes flashed. "I already know."

We released hands, but he didn't go. "Good," I said. "You've been going after the truth, this whole time? I can get you that truth, I have enough truth in my satchel to choke a lying man. But come on, this vote has nothing to do with that. You're the true enigma, Cuffe, and I can't decide where you'll vote. Because you've never said anything, or... Your papers aren't you. And just because you lost somebody doesn't mean you should sell out who you are. If they helped define you, why you fought, how you acted, that they're not around anymore doesn't mean you don't stop being who you were. It should be pushing you to fight, not making you roll over and become a shell."

"You're speaking from personal experience."

Of course I was. It hadn't even been a day since Astoria, and I had transferred my biggest want, the want to save her, to Granford, because that's what she wanted too. It went back to Sarah, as well, who was always the one out of the two of us that truly wanted to heal people, and save them. I'd gotten a lot of my own drive to save people from her death, a way of honouring her and holding onto anybody I could now, and she was a contributing factor to this. She would've encouraged me into doing things a better way, to telling the Wizengamot off a long time ago, and I didn't see that until Astoria died, the stakes became what they were, and everything else looked so petty in comparison.

"Mr Cuffe," I said. "It's more than possible to be the best man you can be despite your losses. I've done it."

"I'm not Harry Potter," he pointed out.

I barked a hollow laugh. "Don't make me sound like something I'm not. It's doable, and you can do it. Take the first step with the disclosure bill tonight. Even if you vote against it, as long as its a decision that they would've been proud of... Make it."

I left him to ponder that alone.

"It was a good speech," said Angus MacMillan, grasping my hand but not shaking it. "Do you truly believe in the Muggles so much? That you would save them personally?"

"This isn't about that, Angus," I commented. "Your fear of what they're capable of shouldn't be a true concern anymore. They're people, _scared_ people, and worthy of saving."

"Those people attacked us at The Burrows, and were responsible for the deaths of many."

"Malfoy was responsible for that, and you know it. The Muggles have been no less manipulated than us, because the fear some people have for them."

MacMillan shook his head. "I don't want anymore loss over this issue, that's what it boils down to. I don't want any loss at all."

"Your son survived Granford," I pointed out. "He should've had a talk with you over how the Muggles work, and act."

"Antioch's nephew didn't survive Granford."

"Because people die!" I exclaimed. "It sucks, it truly does, but it happens. We're supposed to prevent more to help that, remember? I told you about why I became a Healer when we had lunch, and about why Johannsenn Hunt did the things he did. You may be scared of the capability of the Muggles, but think beyond them. Think about human nature as a whole. Malfoy and Harper and their friends have done much worse than a few fractured outlying groups of Muggles have done, and that's even with the knowledge they have of a society still existing! It won't be easy, to save the Muggles and integrate them with us, but it can be done! It should be done, to prevent death... to us all. The bigger picture, Angus. Your son believes in it, and so should you."

Angus MacMillan took a moment to ponder that. Ernie's words had set the path, just as predicted, but I had to do the rest. It wasn't even about the Wizengamot or the disclosure vote, not anymore. MacMillan was fearful of what the Muggles could do to our society once introduced and ingrained, and he would never be the only one. If I couldn't convince him, how could the rest of the wizarding public handle it?

I couldn't answer that, but I could safely say what the firm grip of MacMillan's hand told me. He was uncertain - and weren't we all - but ultimately, he was becoming swayed. Do or die, he was telling himself, and by the feel of things, he picked the first option.

He shook my hand, and smiled honestly when we released. "You shouldn't have so little faith in the Wizengamot, Harry," he said. "The body's organised, and there's nothing to fear from a bit of political corruption. In the end, they'll vote the right way because the people push the right way. If the stars align, that's where they'll go. But since I can't really help that, I'll say it now. My vote is yours." He nodded. "I'll never not be scared, but it's worth pushing past that."

"It really is," I said warmly. I gestured to Smith, hovering by, and he came up to us. "Smith." I shook his hand. "I want to apologise for never directly approaching you for your opinion on this matter. It was dismissive, and rude, and I'm sorry for that."

He blinked in surprise. "That's quite all right, Mr Potter."

"Your bill has our support," affirmed MacMillan. "Best of luck, wherever you may go. But, if I may ask... How will the evenstall be resolved?"

I shrugged. "Give it time. When the Wizengamot convenes next, you'll see."

The rest of the hall began to empty after MacMillan and Smith were gone, leaving myself, Neville and Susan alone. I'd avoided them in the handshaking ritual, saving them for last overall, because I needed more than just a moment and a terse handshake. I owed them that much.

They were hovering just beside Neville's seat, their expressions worried. Two of my friends, with all the conflict of days past standing between us. I kept my distance, but I tried to smile. "Hey guys," I said. "Didn't see that coming?"

"Not in the slightest," said Neville, chuckling ruefully. "I should've, though. Brilliant idea, called them all out... The evenstall, though..."

"I'll take care of that," I promised.

"If it goes through, the vote will go well."

"That I'll be glad for," I admitted. "But I meant what I said. This isn't a plot, it's... a culmination. This was a long time coming, and I knew it was coming eventually."

"You said you would resign when all of this was over," Susan said.

"It is over, unless I take this chance. Granford's in danger, and if they fall, we will all follow, and in more ways than one." I shook my head. "This whole time we've been calling it the Wizengamot 'game'. _Game_. It's not as if this wasn't the most necessary process in the world, it's just that its very nature can't be denied. It _is_ a game, a corrupt little game I don't want any part of."

"But it's not just about that," Neville remarked. His eyes clouded over with remembered pain. "The losses are catching up." To Susan, he spoke, but his eyes never left mine. "He's trying to do the right thing, save as many as he can, because he hasn't been able to before now. Somebody _always_ dies before the end. The lockdown at St Mungo's was just the beginning."

"Terry died too," I said. "And Hart."

"And I forgive you for that," said Susan. "I do, and I know that I've got funny ways of showing it, but I do respect, and trust, you. You don't have to do this, please."

"Yes I do. Of course I do."

"But you could be walking to your death! The Muggles have been manipulated and pushed, and with Draco Malfoy dead, they might be scared -"

I nodded grimly. "This I know."

"And if Selwyn or Parkinson give them orders, do what they want as long as you die -"

"Then it _will_ happen - I made a target of myself, I know that, but it's what has to be done, Susan. Thank you, for forgiving me, but that won't change things."

"I'm sorry too, Harry," Neville piped up. "I know things between us haven't been all that friendly, and -"

I stopped him with a hand, smiling a little. "Mate, you've got nothing to forgive. I should be -"

"Well, no, I -"

"Is this about Astoria?" Susan asked. "I know you were the one who found her and Draco..."

"She's a factor," I said, because that's all I could say without having my voice crack. "Losing her's shown me that this is the right play, even if it kills me. Come on, I can't sit around anymore and play by the whims of the Wizengamot."

"But there's danger at Granford."

"He knows, Susan," Neville said, reaching out to grab her shoulder for a moment, before hastily withdrawing. "How close were you and Astoria?"

_Close enough_, I thought. But, I said, "Not as close as you two."

The two flinched as if struck, and I knew I was on the right track. It made a certain amount of sense, given their behaviours lately, particularly in regard to each other. Neville had always valued her opinion first and foremost, and Susan had appealed to him before anybody else, multiple times. When Hart died, it was Neville who knew and was concerned for Susan. From their reaction right now, I knew that they weren't just friends. They were in a relationship, and had been for some time.

"So how long?" I asked. "And why hide it?"

They shared a look. Slowly, Neville reached out and grabbed Susan's hand, though he still looked a bit of the nervous, shy, awkward, Neville from his teenager years as he did so. Some things never changed. "A few months ago," he said. "How did you -"

"I didn't, not really, not until recently," I admitted. "I know I can never claim to be perceptive, but I have my moments. It just sort of clicked, this moment of clarity. Maybe I was too concerned with myself before, I don't know."

"We didn't tell anybody because, well, we didn't want to jinx it," Susan explained. "At first, I mean. Then... We didn't want it to be a concern for our alliances. The Wizengamot frowns on inter-member relationships outside of marriage, and Merlin knows Stark doesn't care for Neville after he quit the Aurors, so my job was at risk. Mostly, it was because of you. Neville can explain it better, but, there was a certain amount of... guilt, I suppose?"

It clicked for me, again, as Neville shuffled his feet. "I wouldn't have begrudged you that," I said honestly. "Not ever. Just because I lost Sarah doesn't mean the world should stop for my friends." I frowned. "But I reacted badly, didn't I? I nearly killed you, when I lost her, and you were scared, or guilty, or... We've made a mess of things, haven't we?"

That got a chuckle out of the other two. "I know it's stupid," Neville said.

"Glad we got that out of the way," I said with a laugh, which evaporated immediately. "Before you offer, I'm not taking either of you to Granford."

"Why?"

"You're needed here, for one. There's not two people in this world I'd trust with the Wizengamot, even if I have technically told them all off and am really not supposed to care right now. The other reason? You two have a chance, now. Together, for the future." I sighed. "One I don't have with Sarah." _Or Astoria._

Neville stepped forward. "I'm so sorry."

"And you shouldn't be, that's the worst part," I said sadly. "My reaction was too much, considering what you did, I should be thanking you for the rest of my life. You spared me from seeing something plenty others have seen, but I haven't... The reanimation of a loved one, I can't imagine, and I've seen a lot. You saved me from that, Neville Longbottom. She was in pain and you ended it, _you_ stopped the screams." I heard her screams over and over in my head, but I never heard them taper out into a bloody gurgle, a shriek expiring into her painful death. Neville had killed her before it got to that point. "I'd do the same for you."

He looked at Susan, and back at me. "Thank you."

I nodded to him, and turned my own attention to his girlfriend. "You asked about Astoria. I know you had your doubts about her, and I never blamed you for that. I was annoyed, yes, and Hart's death gave you more than enough quarter to hate me, but know this: Astoria was important to me."

"Harry, I was the one who was concerned," Neville admitted. "That... I wasn't sure you could trust her, and I didn't want you to set yourself up for pain. Because you fell for her, the first woman since Sarah, and... I'd been on the wrong side of that reaction before."

"No, I get that... But this is different. The only reason she's dead is because of her husband. Her husband, that arrogant swot, got himself killed, and she died for it. However, the only reason she was in that situation? She was there helping _me_. That's my guilt, and that's why I won't be dissuaded. Granford comes next. Susan, you understand?"

"I understand," she said, her eyes shining. "And again, thank you, for this."

_This_ meaning her and Neville. I hadn't pushed them away to save them, no, I explained to them, told them everything there was to know, and let them know they were needed elsewhere. Bringing them to Granford with me, and potentially breaking their future like my own futures with Sarah or Astoria were broken. Make no mistake, the deadly situation I was walking into might just be the last. But I wasn't going to dwell on death, or even the possibility of my unlife. It was life I was concerned about, and these days I'd do everything I could to save as many as I could. _Especially_ if it ended with my death.

"There's something else." Susan frowned. "You just publicly declared to the Wizengamot your intention to take matters of Granford into your own hands."

"Yeah, I did."

"Some people might take that as a sign you will break the Statute. Break the laws the bill's trying to circumvent. Harry, the laws haven't been changed yet; the vote's tonight. Your declaration's going to get somebody cross -"

As if on cue, the double doors of the Great Hall swung open, three men in Auror robes storming into the room.

"Robards, for example?" I commented to Susan. "Yeah, I saw this coming. Good thing, I have enough time to say a few words to him."

"The Minister just wants to talk," said one of the Aurors, a tall man with dark hair. "If you would..."

I nodded. "Of course," I said amiably. "Neville, Susan, it's been a blast. Rally the Wizengamot best you can. There'll be time for a debate before the vote, so unload on all sides. Selwyn's been neutered by the fact Draco's not writing his speeches, so remember that and you'll be fine."

"Wait a second," said Susan, "The evenstall. Robards. You..."

"I told you I'd take care of it. Robards might be helpful."

"I thought you didn't care about this _game_," Neville said with a grin.

"That doesn't mean a little part of me hopes to be proven wrong about them all. Even if I don't live to see it." I unclipped the brooch on my lapel, tossing it to Susan to catch. "I'm done." I shucked out of my plum robes - I was wearing jeans and a T-shirt underneath - and vanished them with a wave of my wand. I shook Neville's hand and gave Susan a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "Good luck."

I turned from them, my resolve steeling as the Aurors stepped out of the way for me. Granford was waiting, but Minister Robards would have to come first, it seemed. Well, I'd hate to disappoint him.

..::..-.-..::..

"Take a seat, Potter," said the Minister for Magic Gawain Robards, already seated. His tone of voice was gruff, authoritative; he was channelling his Auror days. Already looking to pick a fight, if I had to guess.

I crossed the office and took my chair. It was much like Ogden's office, the Minister's, but the desk separating us was made of rich oak, trimmed with silver and unburdened by any paperwork or personal effects. It was the type of desk that was either there to show off, or told of Robards's fastidious nature; he had no paperwork on his desk because that paperwork was done hours ago. Neither would surprise me at this point.

"Guess you were looking forward to this," I said once I was seated. "I would've come eventually, you know, didn't need the Auror escort."

Said escorts shut the door behind them now, leaving me and the Minister alone.

Robards's face hadn't changed since I came in. He was not looking too happy, with the lines on his forehead hard and unforgiving. "Didn't I? That you haven't talked to me as of late might just be a sign of something. You didn't deign yourself to chew me out over The Burrows? Happened on my watch, you'd say. And then Ogden, who told me of his poisoning, and how, even with my assistance, his family was in enough danger that he would run to _you_, instead." His eyes narrowed. "That you haven't talked to me over either of these things could yet be a sign of guilt, Potter. Are you? Guilty?"

I snorted. "Nothing to be guilty for, is there? I resigned from the Wizengamot, so I have this warm little rush of free conscience."

"Oh yes, that was an interesting move."

"Took you by surprise, didn't it."

"As did your declaration to go save Granford, because it's the right thing to do." The Minister tapped two fingers on his desk, his gaze turning calculating through the veil of gruffness. "Such a thing would no doubt involve an alliance with the Muggles, and the breaking of the Statute of Secrecy. And you threw it in my face."

"It's not like Malfoy wasn't doing the same," I retorted. "You may not've shown up to any of the other meetings, but I'm sure Stark and Ogden told you. You're the Minister for Magic, and you get every report that comes from your people in Granford. You know about the crops, and the electric fence, and probably know some more I've missed. The Statute has been broken, Aaron Fortess has been manipulated, and me going to stop him isn't breaking anything. It's already broken, and Malfoy broke it."

"Draco Malfoy, who died under mysterious circumstances last night," said Robards. "Hours after lambasting you in a Wizengamot meeting, embarrassing your side by making you seem paranoid. From what I heard, he did a fine job. His death is still being investigated, and despite the evidence, there's a shocking amount of things that just don't make sense. A few more footprints in the blood that don't belong to Draco or Astoria Malfoy. Signs of a battle. A fire in their study that looks like it was started _after _they were both dead. Could be a cover up... and Ogden tells me Gale died, too. We have no idea where he is, but you said you saw him die. How am I doing so far?"

I met his gaze evenly. "Could be right, could be wrong. Could also be you who's far-reaching. Malfoy's dead, and he's not what you wanted to talk about. Not what I want to talk about. So let's get down to the real issue here, Robards."

"Your issue, with me," Robards said, pointing a gnarled finger to me, and then back to him. "It goes back, doesn't it?"

"I never did care for you trying to poach me from Hunt's team, but that's to be expected. You needed the Aurors."

"Needed Harry bleeding Potter, more like." He shook his head. "I mean a little more recent. A year ago, even. Auror Lobell's death."

I kept my face as blank as possible. "Lobell died in the lockdown. That's all there is to it."

"Bullshit," Robards said flatly. "Neville Longbottom came to me a year ago. He had just resigned from the Aurors, and wanted to let me know why. He told me what I had done wrong as a Head Auror, in keeping the outbreak secret, and allowing Lobell and his ilk to rally."

"And look what happened when they did," I said. "If Neville told you about that, he would've definitely told you what Lobell did to Carrie Cauldwell -"

Robards held up a placating hand. "I am not defending Lobell's actions. He and his group went behind my back and could've caused a lot more harm than good, despite their intentions. I dealt with them all after Longbottom told me. Most were dead, Savage was marginalised, and Samuel Stark pledged himself to me. I believed him, and I still do, because he didn't like what he did. When I became Minister, I chose him as my Senior Undersecretary because of that trust... But I digress. The point I was making is that my inaction caused Lobell's group to form, and you're worried of the same thing happening now. On a grander scale, in fact, given my new position."

I can't say the thought hasn't crossed my mind, once or twice. Robards's tendency to just let things happen as they do might have caused a lot of pain and death. It wasn't just that simple, however, and I pounced at the chance to expand on his logic. "It goes back to Kingsley, as well," I said.

"And the manner of my ascension to Minister?" he guessed.

"Yes. Kingsley Shacklebolt did a lot of good when he escaped the Ministry when it got overrun. He took care of his people, set the Ministry up here at Hogwarts, and immediately after, he sought to rectify his mistake with the Muggles. He knew of the outbreak, knew it was magical, had heard the reports that could've linked it to The Stigma, and despite that, he wasn't able to act in time. So he did what he had to, and he did it well. He cleared paths to Granford and Liliford for survivors fleeing the bigger cities. He put people in each town. He started the supply drop-off system. He acted."

"He did at that," Robards agreed, smiling to himself a little. "He was a damn good Minister. Better than Fudge, Scrimgeour, all the others I've seen."

"He was poor in one aspect, but all-too human at the same time," I said. "He resigned because of his own guilt. He did as much as he could, but there was no not facing the facts: the outbreak happened. A magical disease killed billions, and Kingsley wasn't the type of person not to _feel_ that. The Muggle government appealed to him, and he didn't act in time. So of course he wanted to resign. He kept himself in the action, though, with the DMLE and the scavenging teams. Problem was... He left you in charge."

Robards said nothing.

"You've kept us going despite it all," I admitted. "But that's all of it. You've been passive, you've been letting things happen. Malfoy and his people being allowed to become like they are is just as bad as Lobell and his people, just on a bigger scale. You're not focusing on surviving, just existing. You're a day-to-day Minister. And we can't have that, not now, not with the disclosure bill and the Dementors on the horizon."

"You think me corrupt," he said quietly. "You think that I'm corrupted by my own nature. You think I should be doing more."

"Yes." Really, it was that simple. "Yes I do. Malfoy spent more time and effort on Ogden because he thought him to be the harder target, and he was right. He could waltz in here naked, firing Killing Curses at your potted plants, and you wouldn't blink. He wanted your inaction to drive a wedge between you and me, and dammit, he basically succeeded. Despite your promises to protect the Wizengamot from escalating rivalries, people have still died. You weren't able to prevent the deaths of Aquilla, Harper, Hart, Gale, even Malfoy. Your assurances and your veiled threats to me to not toe that line weren't working. Malfoy was banking on all of this. We are predictable people, and insignificant. You know what we do in reply to that?"

"What?"

"We prove them wrong," I said firmly. "We fight back. We do what's necessary. And I know that your hands are tied in places, but they're not in others."

My words were beginning to win him over, I saw. The harder lines melted, and determination set in his eyes. He was just as pissed off as I was at the manipulations, because he ultimately wanted the disclosure to pass, and the games Malfoy and I had played hadn't done much for that. "How so?" he asked.

"Kingsley didn't resign and give you the job because you're a caretaker, Robards. We both know you're not just keeping the seat warm. You are the Minister for fucking Magic, the authority, the leader, of everyone. You need to act like it, or this bill will get shot down tonight, and all our work will be for _nothing_. Do the right thing."

"And how would you like me to do that?"

"Go back to your roots. Be the Auror that you once were." I reached into my satchel, the one I'd been carrying with me all night and all day. The notes I wanted were right there, waiting. "Take these." I tossed them on his immaculate desk. "These were written by Draco Malfoy. I didn't trust the idiot, but I trust these notes." Because Astoria died to give them to me. Because they all made sense. "Don't ask anymore questions, and I won't ask you some in return. We're even for Lobell, and Harper, and everyone else. Got it?"

He cautiously took the sheets of parchment from the desk, and scanned the first few lines. "I... see," he said carefully. "I suppose I should thank you."

"Let's not," I replied. "And I won't either, not until you act. You have what you need, to break the evenstall, or to stop the Wizengamot from moving at all... The next choice is yours. Use the file, don't use the file. Save the Muggles, don't. Regardless, I'm heading out to try. Even it breaks all the laws, even if the disclosure bill doesn't save me later on. You and your people can't help. It goes back to integrity, whether or not you can stick to your convictions, even if it pisses off a whole bunch of people. You've been telling us that you want this bill to pass, but there's a difference between telling and showing, of making that move. I'm doing that now." _Now are you going to do the same?_ the unasked question was.

Robards placed the notes back onto the desk. He stared me down for a moment, face displaying no hostility yet no friendliness either. "Don't let me keep you," he said dismissively. "Do what needs to be done. I won't arrest you for it. I'll tell the operatives we have in Granford to stay out of your way."

This time, I was the one wondering if I should say thanks. In the end, I decided against it. I left Robards's office just as I left the Wizengamot, with the hope that they'll both yet do the right thing.

..::..-.-..::..

Hogwarts closed its doors to me once more, and this time I didn't walk out into the rain. The clouds were grey and the grass was wet, but the air was still, steady and calm. I walked out into this still air, mild in temperature, and took a moment to ready myself. This was it. This was the moment that would decide everything important for the future, but more importantly, it would decide if the losses of the past were truly worth it or not.

It was later in the afternoon. This time yesterday, I was fighting with Draco Malfoy. Hours later I found his corpse, along with Astoria's... It's safe to say it felt longer. A logical part of me should've been tired and weary, but I wasn't. No potions, no spells, this was just pure _want_ keeping me up.

"So how did it go?" a familiar voice asked from behind me. I turned and saw Ron, leaning on the castle's walls. He was dressed in heavy clothes; all black, a combat uniform. He looked as tired as I should've been, but wasn't drunk or hungover - he walked towards me in a steady gait, itching his covered arm absently. "The meeting?"

"Good," I replied. "All worked out, and the vote just might go well. Shame I won't be there for it, but it's for the best."

Ron's lips twitched upwards. "Yeah. So when are we going to Granford?"

I didn't even need to argue; he wanted to come, he was there. "Heading off now. Doubtless, we'll be at it for a while, with Fortess."

We began to walk towards the gates in silence, and we were halfway there when Ron asked _the_ question. "Harry, how close were you and Astoria?"

Unlike with Neville and Susan, I didn't need to deflect. Ron deserved more than that, and he'd understand. Oh Merlin he would understand. "_Close_," I said, my voice barely louder than a whisper. "A part of me knows that we moved so quickly out of desperation, but that doesn't change it. Close. Closer than I would've dared to imagine. It felt good, you know? After everything, to just have _somebody_."

"I know the feeling," Ron said quietly.

I nodded. "After Sarah I never thought I would, but I did, for a few days I had something. And now..."

It _almost_ hit me then. Not quite, but almost. Astoria was dead, and every part of me knew that, but there was a difference between knowing and _knowing_, at a fundamental level, that she was truly dead, dead, _dead_, and I'd never see, hear, touch her again...

I cleared my throat uncomfortably. "Yeah, you know what's it like."

"I do, I do." He frowned. "I miss Megan too, and Hermione, and the rest. Suppose that's why we're doing this? Feeling like it's our last move?"

"It's our best one, even if it kills us," I confirmed. "We might suffer the same fate as Terry, but dammit, I need to set this right. Fortess doesn't comprehend, not fully, how much of a danger Nott is."

"Nott already destroyed Liliford," said Ron. "Megan..."

For his own sake, I'd spared him from the full details of how Nott killed Megan. Relaying that kind of message would be a surefire way to get Nott killed, which is exactly what the Dementors would want. They were counting on it, which is why I had to convince Fortess before he, or someone close to him who had already killed somebody I knew in a rage, pulled the trigger and unleashed hell on his own town.

The Aurors at the gates let us pass without any fuss, and we wandered out into the woodland for a bit before preparing to apparate. We did a quick check of our assets: wands, and ourselves, nothing but.

"So this is it?" Ron asked. "If we're going to go down swinging, might as well go together, right?"

I clasped him on the shoulder. "As it should be, mate." The moment passed in silence. "Come on, enough standing around."

I turned on the spot, pictured the hill overlooking the town where we apparated from last night, and concentrating all I could into apparating. I was pushed and pulled, twisted and turned, but the sensation wasn't unfamiliar, and I'd felt much worse while standing still enough times so this wasn't an issue. When I next opened my eyes, the air was much cooler, heavy with that feeling in between one deluge of rain and before the next. Sunlight was blocked by the stormy clouds, but it was light enough to see Granford in all its glory, just waiting for us; it hadn't been swallowed by the mist, not yet.

Ron and I trudged down the hill and onto the road, slipping into our concealments as we did - I put on my Invisibility Cloak, he used a Disillusionment Charm.

The road was empty and quiet, and before long the two bridges of Granford lay before us. There was the old, weather-beaten bridge aptly called the Old Bridge, and the Tent Bridge, lined with dark green tents of all sizes and with the sentry count to match, all centred around the two, long, poles sitting in the middle of the bridge, able to be seen by every part of the town. In an attack, the Two Flares would be lit to attract mobs of zombies towards the bridges, the rest of the town plunged into darkness. Whether or not that plan would hold up to Dementors, we'd see. Ron and I took the Old Bridge to get across with no problem, and our triumphant return into the town proper was a bit anti-climatic.

Once in the town, we made our way into an alleyway. "Are we removing the disguises?" Ron asked from somewhere at my side; I couldn't see him, after all.

"Sends the wrong message if we outright sneak into the station to see Fortess," I said, even though we had to sneak across the bridge in order to avoid getting shot on sight.

I pocketed my cloak in the alleyway around the corner from the station, after we crossed the mostly-abandoned centre square. Ron tapped the top of his head to remove the Disillusionment, and, that done, we headed out into the street. It was empty, at first glance, and if there was anybody watching from the windows, I couldn't see them.

Satisfied, but still cautious, we made our way down the path and toward the station, footsteps pounding through the puddles on the -

The outline of another footstep stood on the puddle before us.

My right arm suddenly erupted in a hot, stinging, sensation, and when I tried to flick my wand out of its holster, I found it wasn't there anymore. Through the pain I dimly registered the long cut on my arm, enough to sever the straps of my invisible holster, and the shape of it flying forward into the puddle by the invisible person's feet. Behind me, Ron swore as a jet of red light soared towards him. I blocked it out as a rush of blood pumped through my veins, pushing me to the ground to grab for my wand -

A dark boot stepped forward, and a slim hand reached down and picked up my wand holster, pocketing it and the wand inside in their jacket.

When I looked up, I was staring into the abyss of a gun barrel, the same gun barrel Terry had been staring down just last night. The same gun that killed him.

"Don't even try," said Juliet O'Flynn, scowling down at me. Her hair was plastered to her head, wet from the earlier rain, and the pistol was held in her hands with the same eerie steadiness I saw last night. Her eyes briefly darted away from me, to something at her side. "Meadowes, you get him?"

"Yeah," said Lucas Meadowes, shimmering into view as his own Disillusionment Charm wore off. I couldn't even fathom the shock, and rage, I felt at seeing him there. He refused to meet my eyes. "He's unconscious too."

"Good. I need you to grab two more people for me."

My heart began to pound.

"Who?" Meadowes asked.

"The barkeep, and the small Asian girl they brought with them the first time," said Juliet. "They're both magical, like these two, and Fortess will want to talk to them." Lucas nodded his assent and flicked up the Disillusionment again, and Juliet's attentions flickered towards me entirely. "Thought you could sneak back in that easily? We know you're little game, Potter, and I'm not going to let you in on your terms. Fortess won't look too kindly to this, so whatever your plan is, you better substitute it for a quick death." A haunted little smile flittered over her expression. "Like your friend Terry."

_How did she know?_ echoed throughout my head. _How did she know I was coming?_ I started to say, "Listen, I don't -" but she flipped the gun in her hands and rushed the butt end forward, and the words died in my throat the moment my head took the hit.

Darkness swept into my vision, and I fell into blissful unconsciousness.

..::..-.-..::..

_To Be Continued in Chapter Fifteen: Incarceration..._

..::..-.-..::..

Post-Chapter Notes:

- _Author's Note :: _My eventual dissatisfaction for the politics storyline I wrote myself into probably shows a bit here, and while it was always the plan for Harry to bail on the Wizengamot and call them on their shit, I probably shouldn't have had so much fun writing it. In one chapter I excise a good deal of storylines and plots, and the resolves should tell you all what the goal of each of the Wizengamot members' storylines was, and that was to reflect on Harry, to make him the better person in letting go of various demons. I dunno, it was just the intent. 50/50 on succeeding, lol.

_- Next Chapter Tease ::_ Harry and Fortess put it all on the line, but those around them still keeping secrets might yet lead to devastation.

_- Wizengamot Scorecard ::_

- _Pro-Disclosure_ :: Neville, Susan, Boot, Brown, Patil, Diggory, MacMillan, Smith.

- _Anti-Disclosure_ :: Parkinson, Bulstrode, Selwyn, Burke.

- _Swing Votes_ :: Zabini, Cuffe.

- _Former Members ::_ Bill Weasley (Resigned), Isaac Aquilla (Dead), Hoster Harper (Dead), Artemis Hart (Dead), Grey Gale (Forcibly resigned, then killed). Draco Malfoy (Dead), Astoria Malfoy (Replaced Gale, then killed), Harry Potter (Resigned).

- _Member Count ::_ Fourteen.

- _Status ::_ Evenstalled.

Thanks for reading!

..::..-.-..::..


	15. Chapter Fifteen: Incarceration

_Standard Disclaimer_ :: All things Harry Potter belong to JK Rowling and affiliates. This fanfiction is a non-profit venture written for the enjoyment of myself and my readers.

_Dedication :: _To Seratin, Lutris, Zeitgeist, Vira and my friends from DLP, for putting up with my insanity, for reading early drafts, and just being there. Also, to all those who reviewed/favourited/alerted me or my story here on FFnet, cheers. Props to DLP for the feedback, too - anyone reading this who hasn't devoured their C2 on this very site must do so now. It's the first community on the list, for a damn good reason, and I'm more than happy to have this story a part of it too.

_Preface :: _Apologies for minor delay in posting; betaing this one took longer than anticipated. This chapter's probably not the most spectacular, but it's got some decent breathing room and forever-valued character beats, and so yeah, not much else to say. Get to it!

_Previously :: _Harry, still reeling from Astoria's death, left Malfoy Manor with a heavy heart and a satchel full of written plans and designs courtesy of Draco Malfoy. His first move was to return to Granford, where a crisis quickly erupted: Juliet shot and killed Terry while apparently under some kind of influence, thinking that he tried to rape her. This discretion crossed the line for Fortess, who booted Harry, Ron, Neville and Ernie away; Su staying to protect the Ogdens because Fortess didn't know she was a witch. When Harry returned to Hogwarts, he organised a Wizengamot meeting to end all Wizengamot meetings, for him at least. Yes, Harry elected to resign from the Wizengamot for reasons of dissatisfaction and dislike of the person it was making him into, and with the process as a whole. His speech in exiting gave MacMillan and Smith's votes to the disclosure bill, with Cuffe still undecided and Boot still supporting despite his nephew's death. On his way out of Hogwarts, after reconciling with Neville and Susan over their recent differences both out of good ol' fashioned overprotectiveness, Harry had a talk with Minister Robards. Robards was appeased and chastised enough for Harry to be secure that he'd deal with the evenstall and be a good Minister from now on.

So Harry, with Ron in tow, headed for Granford, but an ambush organised by Juliet O'Flynn and Lucas Meadowes ensued, and the two were quickly disarmed and knocked out...

..::..-.-..::..

_Chapter Fifteen of Sixteen: Incarceration_

..::..-.-..::..

In the haze of unconsciousness, I remembered an Autumn day at Hogwarts.

"... so Mum fixed the cat, of course, she waved her wand and he was all better," Astoria was saying, and her voice echoed in the background of the fugue state my mind was stuck in. The sunlight caught on her hair, diving into and weaving through it like a braid of light, and for a moment, that was all I could see. "But when she and Father talked it out with us, they punished Daph for it, you know, as they should've."

"Transmogrification spells are bad," I said in agreement. "Hand me the dittany?"

She passed the bottle over, and I double-checked the label. Satisfied, I nodded and placed it back in the cabinet, freshly cleaned and found free of any mysterious magical fungi that could've grown from the potions it held; it had happened, more than once, that a poorly-stopped vial or bottle had leaked something into the cabinets they were kept in, which had ended the shelf life of more than a few potions. These sorts of things were important, as Madam Pomfrey always drilled into us. For the day, the Hospital Wing was ours to run, and we didn't want to screw this up.

"But the worst part was," said Astoria, juggling a few empty vials that once contained stale Swelling Solutions, "Daph didn't get punished for using the spell on Gideon in the first place."

"Yeah?" I said. "Wasn't she like twelve at the -" I waved my wand over the empty shelf again, incanting, "_Scourgify_."

The dust and grime obliterated into nothingness as Astoria nodded. "And yet, that's not what my parents were mad at. Breaking the no magic in summer rule? Nah, wasn't a big issue. See, she got the spell from a boy, back here at Hogwarts, who'd been sending her letters all summer. The spell? Dark Magic, or something just as bad. It was her friend Theodore, and the spells were like some weird courtship." She laughed to herself. "So of course Mum and Dad were more concerned about their eldest daughter involving herself with a boy than the fact my cat got cursed."

I got a chuckle out of that. "Theodore?" I asked. "As in, Theodore Nott?"

Astoria nodded affirmatively. "Daphne told me a few years back that she'd either end up marrying or killing him." Her easygoing smile tapered off. "Although, she _did_ testify at his trial... So probably the latter."

The moment suddenly became a little uncomfortable, a childhood story retelling leading back to the war and all the horrors that came with. "Well," I said, closing the potions cabinet to punctuate the breaking of the tension. "Your sister really turned your cat into a hedgehog?"

She nodded again. I nodded back. She cracked a little smile, and I felt one reach my own face. Eventually, it devolved from a smile to giggle, and I chuckled to match. We laughed at the image for a moment longer than we should've, but hell, it was just the sort of thing to do.

We'd just finished when Ron and Hermione walked into the Hospital Wing. "Do you two _ever_ get any work done around here?" Ron teased, grinning madly himself.

"I'll have you know, Ronald," started Astoria, using his full name for the sake of it. "We've cleaned out three potions cabinets -"

"Three, yep," I said.

"- checked the freshness of the entire stock of potions and salves -"

"Entire stock."

"- and we treated two students earlier for minor spell damage."

"Hexed each other, a fight over some girl," I elaborated. "She made me deal with the one oozing pus from his -" I made a hand gesture roughly of the shape and size of the offending object. Astoria began to giggle again.

"The fun never ends," Ron said.

"I've got your homework from Professor Flitwick, Harry," said Hermione, hefting the book bag slung on her shoulder. "I'll drop it off later?"

I nodded and thanked her. "You'll be all right in Potions without me, mate?" I asked Ron.

"Not if we have to pair up and Slughorn puts me with Malfoy again," he replied, grimacing.

"He hasn't been _that_ bad," Hermione said. "Almost like he's trying to make amends."

"Or he just doesn't want the attention," I guessed. "Why the hell are we talking about Malfoy, anyway? Unless..." I turned to Astoria, who looked bemused. "Your sister wouldn't happen to remember the spell, would she? The hedgehog one?"

She shook her head. "If only, but there wouldn't be any need to use it on him. Hermione's got the right of it, he's been better this year. Seriously, one day he might surprise us all. This year, he's done none of that King of Slytherin dung, just making up for the schoolwork from last year." She gestured a hand to the three of us. "Like you lot."

"Yes, NEWTS. Coming back to school to do them," Ron said lightly. "Not my smartest idea."

Hermione rolled her eyes, seeing the bait and not taking it. "Speaking of, I do have a new study schedule for you, Harry, if you're going to be spending more and more time here this close to the NEWTs."

"Got to get as much as I can before jumping into Hunt's team in the summer," I remarked. "Not everyone gets this kind of chance, so I better make up for it."

"While the rest of us sit through _more_ classes before ever dealing with patients," Astoria said, though with no sting in her words; she didn't have any animosity towards me for my opportunity with Hunt, and she knew she was one of those people that would have to work hard to get where they wanted, and if that meant classes at St Mungo's with the rest of the prospective Healers, then Astoria would take that and make it her own.

"I just wish somebody had told me earlier you could skip classes to sort out cabinets all day," Ron said with a wry grin. "Would've made for a treat on double Potions Mondays back in our fifth year -"

Over in the corner of the room, the fireplace's flames flared emerald green, and the sound of an activating Floo connection roared out, sounding not unlike steam rushing out of a tight space, three times in a row.

"I need to get this," I told the others.

"We'll catch up later," Hermione promised. "We were going to go study a bit before lunch, so you two keep out of trouble."

"It's not like they couldn't just _heal_ themselves in case of emergency," Ron muttered to himself. Hermione and he left the way they came, Ron raising his hand in goodbye as he did.

When I made my way over to the fireplace, I found a disembodied head sitting in the green flames, looking remarkably like a misshapen egg with hair and facial features. The head belonged to an older man with salt-and-pepper hair, and a thin scar running down his left cheek. Licks of green flame caressed and cupped his chin and cheeks, but he didn't appear fazed.

"Healer Hunt," I greeted, crouching down at his head's level. "What can I do for you?"

"Potter, just the man I was hoping to see," Hunt replied. His voice was throaty and dry, but it wasn't because he was inhaling ashes from the Floo connection; it was always like that. His head swivelled back and forth, looking over my shoulder and to the rest of the wing. "Pomfrey around?"

I shook my head. "She gave the wing to us for the day."

"Practising being responsible?"

"As I can."

"Well, time to stop," he said. "I've got some spare time on my hands, and like I said in my last letter, you need a tour of the ward."

He had said as much, and from what little I knew of the man, I knew it would be an impromptu tour. My first letter to him was back in December, to tell him that yes, if there was a place available, I'd take him up in the offer to join his team right out of Hogwarts. His replies to my ensuing questionnaires had been brief, terse, very him, but a tour was always in the cards.

There was just one snag in me doing it today. "Madam Pomfrey left us in charge..."

Hunt's head nodded. "I can send one of my people over." He considered for a moment, before nodding again. "One of Pomfrey's old students. Should do the trick if she kicks up a fuss at your disappearance."

"That would be great, thanks," I said. "As soon as they show, I'll come on through."

Hunt rattled off the Floo address, and his head disappeared from the fireplace with a _pop_. The flames died down and turned back to their natural orange and red hue as I stood from my spot. Astoria appeared at my side. "A tour?" she asked.

"Of the ward, of the hospital," I confirmed with a nod. "Only been there twice, and I heard it's been revamped thanks to..." I leaned heavily on the next word with great sarcasm, "... _generous_ contributions from former Death Eaters. Coincidentally around the same time they should've been arrested."

"Should be fun," said Astoria. "I hope the guy he sends over can stand to field a few questions -"

The Floo flared up again. "I should probably leave a note for Pomfrey, too," I said, walking across the room to grab for some parchment we were using for inventory minutes earlier. I finished off my short note, saying my apologies multiple times, and turned back from it to find Astoria talking with a new arrival.

It was a young woman, wearing bottle-green Healer robes and wearing them well. Her hair was blonde and clipped behind her head, and she was slightly taller than Astoria, which was shorter than me overall, but not by much. I put on my best friendly grin as I wandered back to the fireplace, the flames inside having died back down again.

"Sarah Fawcett," the blonde woman introduced herself as.

"Harry Potter," I replied, and there was an awkward moment when we probably should've shaken hands or something, but didn't. "Fawcett, yeah? Umm..." I thought about it for a second. "Oh. Ravenclaw, two years above me."

"That's right," said Sarah. She reached a hand up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear, looking around the Hospital Wing as she did. She smiled, and I noticed it was a pretty smile. "This place. Spent most of my sixth and seventh years here with Madam Pomfrey. Lot of memories." Her attention wandered back to the two of us. "Congratulations, you two, for surviving this long. Pomfrey has her moments," she joked.

Astoria smiled back. "Did she make you run the place every now and then, too?"

"Plenty of times. Once in the middle of flu season..." She mock-shuddered. "Though I will say, when you've worked in St Mungo's, the Hospital Wing does look pretty inviting."

"How long have you been on Hunt's team?" I asked curiously.

"Just started this year," she replied. "In the middle of some of my more practical classes when I got his attention. Decided he needed me. Still have to do the classload, but I didn't go into it expecting an easy ride."

"Me neither," I said lightly. "No such thing as an easy ride."

"I can see why Hunt wants you," Sarah said in the same sort of easygoing tone. "You should probably get going before he gets impatient."

"Yeah, yeah, good idea." I made my way over to the fireplace's mantel, unscrewing the lid to the Floo Powder jar. Then I paused, and turned back to Sarah. "Would Hunt mind if I brought somebody along?"

"Who?"

I gestured to Astoria. "She's going to be there a year after I get there anyway, maybe not working with Hunt, but still at St Mungo's." To Astoria, I said, "If you want to, I mean."

"Yeah, of course, that'd be great," she replied. Her grin seemed suddenly shy, and she murmured, "Thanks Harry."

"Anytime," I told her. "So, Miss Fawcett?"

"It's Sarah, and of course she can," she said kindly.

"Thank you," I said, and Sarah Fawcett nodded in reply. I gestured to Astoria to follow my lead, and she bounced over to the fireplace on the heels of her feet, happier than I'd ever seen her. I took a pinch of the powder from its jar, tossed it into the flames, and watched as they roared to life, everything red and orange and yellow turning pure emerald green in colour, still crackling merrily. A veil of silence pierced into my ears, drowning out all other noises, but I continued to stare into the fire. For a moment, they were all I could see, the flames...

... and I woke up.

My head was lying on a cool, hard, surface, with a steady, painful, beat, _ba-dum_, _ba-dum _pressing me further down. A throaty groan escaped me as I dimly tried to recapture total awareness, getting a feel for the awkward position my body was in. Most of my weight was pressed onto my right arm, I registered, and it had gone completely numb because of it. I groaned again, and in shifting and rolling onto my back, I was suddenly overcome with pins and needles raging up my forearm as feeling returned and reminded me that it'd been injured just before I'd been knocked unconscious. This time, I didn't just groan. I grunted, snuffled, moaned, and made an odd sort of slurring noise as I worked my tender jaw back in place without jostling my still-pounding head.

"... awake, awake!" an all-too-familiar voice cried from somewhere far away and yet close, the voice echoing through the walls and circling around my form like a predatory shark. "Awake, joining the fun! Har-ree Pott-her, and his friends! So many friends, almost like home -"

"Somebody shut him up," another voice murmured.

But Theodore Nott wouldn't stop. "I'd ask how many Mudbloods they killed, tortured, raped and _killed again_, and they'd, oh, they would, reply! Five! Sixteen! Two and a half!"

"I said shut up!" the second voice snapped. A ringing _clang _exploded into every part of my body, amplifying the headache with a sharp echo.

"Wait," I ground out. I could barely hear myself, but I still had to speak. "Don't, don't do it. Don't kill him. It's what... It's wha' he wants."

"Harry's awake," Su Li whispered into the din, closer than Nott, but still not right next to me.

_Why is everything so dark?_ I asked myself.

_My eyes are still shut_, I answered myself.

So I opened them. It wasn't a complete shock that I found myself staring out through steel bars, a familiar, dark, hallway lying just outside. Cells faced mine, and the two across from me were occupied, one by Su, one by Aberforth Dumbledore. Su was at home in her shadowy cell, her face peering through the bars and doing an assessment of my health from across the way. Abe, his expression gruff and his hand running through his beard, dispensed with the Healer routine and just asked, "You alive in there?"

"For now," Nott's voice cackled.

"Not helping the headache," I replied, taking a deep breath before hoisting myself towards the bars.

"So he's awake." Lucas Meadowes stepped into view, his hair lying lifeless on his head and his expression glum. "About time. Wasting the night out there."

"How long was I out?" I asked, not directed at anyone specifically; didn't expect Meadowes to be the one to answer.

I was right. Ron was the one to answer, his voice muffled through the wall to my right. "It's been six hours."

"Where's Fortess? Where's Juliet?"

"Oh they'll be coming," Meadowes promised. He walked towards my cell with his wand held in front of him, as if expecting me to seriously be in any position to fight right now. "You'd best stay right where you are. I added wards to these bars."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, Lucas," I said shortly, unimpressed. "Go get Fortess. Now."

Meadowes turned on the spot and left my view, muttering to himself.

"What a twat," Ron said from the cell next to mine.

"Indeed," Nott agreed from down the hall. I was suddenly very thankful he wasn't within view; I didn't need to even imagine that triumphant look on his face. Here we were, locked up just like him, at the mercy of a group of scared Muggles and a mercenary Hit-Wizard in over his head, and whatever insanity Nott threw at either could just result in his death, which would release the Dementors from the dead man's switch hanging around his neck...

And that memory was still in my head, fuzzy and undefined, taunting me... Astoria. Sarah. Hunt. Hermione. _Astoria_.

It finally hit me then.

Just over twenty-four hours had passed since I found her body. Lying on her and Draco's bed, the bed we also made love in one night, only a few nights ago. Things had slowed down when I looked at her body, and I hadn't... I'd seen dead bodies before, I'd seen Sarah's body half-devoured in front of me for fuck's sake, but Astoria... Coming to the scene after it happened and learning exactly how, having her tell me in her last note, was starting to hit me, the true horror. I could see with perfect clarity how Draco Malfoy turned into a zombie, how he bit his wife when she came to investigate, how he might've just set her up to be bitten when he knew what happened. I could hear Astoria's footsteps, running up those stairs, running away from the monster who bit her. Her thoughts, all of them, rushed into me; the terror, the dread, the _everything_. She turned around and killed her husband's zombie, in a clean, practical way. There were no marks in the walls around his body - she took one shot, and she killed him.

She used that same wand to kill herself. Stuck the tip under her neck, blew her brains all over the wall behind the bed, _the_ bed. One shot, and killed herself.

She was dead. She died alone, pouring everything into that last note, writing it before she sent me the message, because she didn't want me to see, didn't want me to watch her die... But she made me find her corpse. And... Did Draco really set her up to die? Were her last thoughts of me before she... Why does it make no damn sense that _she's dead_?

Laughing and smiling in my dream, a carefree teenager with a family back home and friends at school. She wasn't even twenty-one when she died, a married woman torn between two loyalties, trapped in that manor. It was unfair. Unfair that she got turned into that, unfair that she told me the most she laughed in over a year was with me in the library, unfair that we only connected in a way I wanted so badly for days, and those days not even spent truly together. Just as unfair as what happened to Sarah. I still carry her ring in my pocket, as if she'll magically come back and I can give it to her. Am I going to carry Astoria's note for the same reason? So I could hand it back and go, "Thank you for this. It almost makes up for the fact you're _dead_."

I took in the jail cell, my head dizzy. It was small, way too small. The urge to get out become almost overpowering; no surprise it drove someone like Nott insane.

"I can do this," I murmured to myself, because I could, couldn't I? I slumped onto the ground, my back against the right wall, hard and unyielding. I quit the Wizengamot, I'm back in Granford, and the Dementors haven't been released yet. Abe, Su and Ron were in cells with me, but where was Ellie and her family, or Strauss? How much leeway would Fortess give me to try and convince him that things have to change? My incarceration cannot go on forever. I needed to get out, and sort as many things as I could before -

It hit me again. Astoria never got out. She died in her prison.

But I was not Astoria. There was too much on the line for me to just give up, even if every part of me was saying how hopeless it was, that even if I succeeded today, the future would be bleaker without her in it.

I don't know what my first move would be, but I needed to check in with Abe, Su and Ron, for one. I needed to know if the Ogdens were safe.

Ron started talking before I could. "Harry?" he asked. "You there?"

"Yeah," I replied back through the wall. "You all right back there?"

"Kinda what I had to talk to you about. I'm sorry, Harry." His voice, muffled though it was through the wall, was quiet.

I sighed and pressed my head against the wall. I could almost imagine Ron sitting in the same position on the other side. "About what?"

"You were going to find out sooner or later; I didn't want to worry you."

"About what?" I repeated, feeling that mounting dread settle into the pit of my stomach...

"Come to the front of the bars, and try to angle your head my way. I'll show you."

Slowly, I complied, shuffling myself across the floor and to the bars. Across the way, Abe and Su watched as I pressed my face nearly against the bars, not actually touching them to avoid whatever spells Meadowes put on them. Uncomfortable though the position was, I titled my head to the right and tried to see.

"Ron?"

"Just a second," he said.

Su gasped, and Abe started shaking his head. Ron's bare arm reached out through the bars, and he flipped his forearm over so I could see it.

Oh no. No, no, no, no.

I still couldn't see him talk, but the arm did enough of it. "The zombie, back at The Burrows. You remember?" Ron asked.

"The piano," I breathed out. "The one who was trying to bite you when I went off to get Warren..."

And I remembered what happened next.

_"Did you get bitten?"_

_"No."_

_"Did you swallow any of its blood?"_

_"Harry, no, I'm fine." _

He'd been paler, more sallow, just after the attack. He'd been itching at his arm absently, like it pained him. Heavy jumpers and coats, to hide his arm from view. I hadn't even truly noticed how much more tired he looked, because he hadn't been sleeping with Megan's death hanging over him. And, worst of all, he had pushed himself into dangerous situations, like the plan to kidnap and kill Harper. Because he knew.

He knew what the black lesion on his arm meant.

It was oily black, the size of a golf ball, sitting on the underside of his forearm. Veiny tendrils travelled up and down his freckled arm, to his elbow, his wrist, and a particularly nasty-looking one circling around his entire arm like a bracelet. The lesion, bringing back all the memories of the Lucius Malfoy Curse Ward a year ago, was the first symptom of The Dementor's Stigma, the disease that started all of this. I hadn't seen that lesion since the disease died out, just after it had done its job and set off the events that ended the world as we knew it.

Ron twisted and turn his arm again to show the full extent of the lesion's reach. "Think I need a Healer?"

_No use, Ron_, I thought sadly. _There's no coming back._

"It appeared a day after the attack," he explained. "Must've swallowed some of the zombie's blood when Harry killed it."

"I didn't think that could do it," Abe commented from across the way.

"It's an infection," said Su. "The first undead were Stigma victims, and they turn more people into them by infecting them. The bite passes on the disease. It makes sense that it's in the blood." She shook her head sadly. "If you were a Muggle, you'd already be dead. But it's presenting to you like The Stigma did. Lesions are first."

"Then the fever, yeah," Ron said. He withdrew his arm from my view, but I stayed where I was. I heard him stand and start to pace his cell, footsteps heavy and grave. "I felt a bit off when I woke up yesterday. Hot, flushed, feverish. I took a few potions, but they didn't do anything. Alcohol didn't either, though it made me feel better." There was a pause; I imagined him shaking his head. "Of course I knew they wouldn't do anything. I still tried to remove the lesion, nearly burned off my entire arm. I remember what's next."

"The fever will put you in bed soon," Su said worriedly. "You won't be getting out of it."

Ron laughed hollowly. "I don't intend to get that far. I don't want the hallucinations, or the slow death. I don't want to poked and prodded by Healers, either. No offence."

"None taken." Su frowned and said nothing else. Abe begun shaking his head again.

"Why?" I asked, my voice croaky. "Why did you tell us now?"

"I don't want to die from this," Ron replied firmly.

"But you're already dead, mate."

"I know that. Don't you think I do?" He sighed audibly. The sound of his footsteps ceased, and the noise that followed told me he was slumped against the wall again, sliding down onto the ground. I couldn't even imagine how tired he would've felt. "You can use me as a distraction. Just in case. I'm infected now, so if I die, I'll come back as one of them. The walking dead... I don't want to hurt anybody, but I can still be a distraction of some kind. You can use me. That's why I'm here, Harry, to help."

"You knew what was coming," I said quietly.

"It won't be too bad," he replied in the same tone. "I've been just hanging around since Megan. Waiting for something... This is it. I'm going to die, but I'm going to help, right to the end. Because that's what friends do. You've helped me plenty, Harry, and I know I haven't always been thankful, but... I hope you get it."

I did. He talked about it with finality, as if there was no hope. I didn't fool myself either - there _was_ no hope. He had The Stigma, the disease that destroyed the world. He was in the most peril of all of us, and he didn't want to wait out the next few weeks and die. The hallucinations would come far too soon, and Ron Weasley had so many things that he would see, so much that he'd rather die than live through them again. I couldn't blame him for that. I'd do the exact same thing.

And I might yet have to. The memory, the dream, whatever... Everyone in it was dead, or in Ron's case, dead enough. It hit me quicker than Astoria's death did. Not that I wanted to curl up and cry, but I felt bad enough for it. I'm here, in this cell, for a reason. People have died, people have been broken, and I have to save who, and what, I can. Granford is still in danger - the culprit is in a cell down the hall right now, humming to himself.

But when I tried to steel myself, preparing arguments to use on Aaron Fortess when he shows up, I had a repeating thought. The people in that dream were all dead. Astoria, Sarah, Hunt, Hermione, and Ron.

Was I next?

Is this where everything's going? Do I have to die to save Granford? Is it ultimately going to be fruitless, and make no sense, like Astoria's death?

"They won't be getting out, sir," Lucas Meadowes's voice said in the distance. The sound of the cage door leading to the long, rectangular, room of jail cells we were occupying opening rattled through the walls. "The wards will prevent them."

"Good," said Juliet O'Flynn, her voice hard. "I still think this is a bad idea. We shouldn't be talking to them."

"I'll be the judge of that, Juliet," Aaron Fortess replied. "I need to tell them the seriousness of the situation. They should not've come back."

"They sound so, so, so, grateful for your help!" Nott sang from his cell. "Now I'm not in here with you, you're in here with me. My new friends!"

"He's been babbling more and more," Meadowes revealed. "Silencing Charm won't shut him up."

"Ever think of a gag, Meadowes?" asked Juliet.

"I wouldn't if I were you!" I called, letting my voice carry to the hallway. "He'd probably find a way to choke on the damn thing, and die."

The door slammed closed, and Fortess and Juliet both appeared in front of my cell. They were both dressed in heavy black clothing, and Juliet had a rifle strapped over one shoulder. Ready for war, the both of them. I was standing and staring them down through my cell, calm as could be.

Fortess's eyes were cool as they assessed me. "I told you that you were gone. You and your friends both."

"Couldn't stay away, not with so much on the line," I replied evenly. "I only brought Ron because he volunteered."

"You both snuck into town. Used magic to hide your crossing on the bridge. Because there are wards, spells, around my town, preventing you from coming and going in that way you do."

"I didn't want to sneak in, trust me. I wanted to talk to you, but how else could I if your people would shoot us on sight as intruders? You can't get rid of me that easily."

"Arrogant, considering," Juliet commented. "I don't remember Terry having the same confidence in the end."

"_Juliet_," Fortess said in reprimand. To me, he continued on, "I'm disappointed you didn't follow my wishes. I didn't put a move like this past you, but I told you I'd need time to confirm things. I would've thought you would listen to me, especially after what I had to say. Was I wrong?"

"No, no," I said hurriedly. "You weren't. But that same time might've killed you, Fortess. And not just you, but this whole town. The Dementors are coming. That's not a threat, because I'm not bringing them. That's a fact. Draco's dead, you can't get any advice. I know the things he told you, and I can help separate truth from fiction, even if you don't -"

"Believe you, yes."

"We just need to talk about things. We're not past the stage where we can't just talk. Please."

He considered for a moment. At his side, Juliet glared daggers at me, her hands never far from her rifle. Fortess's expression never changed, unfortunately. Stony and cool, disappointed and betrayed. Distrusting. Corrupted.

"I need to discuss the issue with Juliet," he said finally. "I just need... time."

"You can't afford to waste too much," I asserted.

"I'll be back before the hour's done," he replied. "Will that satisfy you?"

Frustration coursed through me, but ultimately, he was in control. He was anticipating and fearing this talk as much as me. He was conflicted, pulled every which way. I knew the feeling.

"Aaron, you should talk to him _now_," Abeforth piped up, catching the other man's attention. "The boy doesn't mean any harm. Come on."

Fortess turned his gaze on Abe. "Abe, you... You lied to me and mine, more than Potter here ever did. You were a wizard this entire time, and people trusted you."

Abe snorted. "That I'm a wizard means shit all. You're not cowed by that idea. Not Aaron Fortess. There's a dozen Ministry operatives in town, and you know this." He gestured to Meadowes, who I could see a glimpse of standing to the left of us all. "You're using one."

"Oh you're right, Abe," said Fortess. "But you all still lied to me, in such a way that threatens my town. _That_ I cannot forgive. I'm not cowed by your magic. I'm just disappointed by your lies. That you even saw the need to."

Abe shrugged in a "What can I do?" gesture, and stayed silent.

Fortess nodded at him, and turned back to me. "You should be thankful I'll be back soon," he said. "Even though I have no reason to listen to a word you say."

I said nothing. Fortess took one last look at me, shook his head at it all, and went back the way he came. Juliet shot me her best scowl before following. "Stay here and watch them," she ordered Meadowes.

"Yeah, sure, they're not going anywhere."

By the time the sound of the cage door closing registered, I hoped Meadowes wasn't right.

"They're coming..." Nott said ominously. "They are all coming, and they are hun-gray. Hungry for your everything. Your souls will be devoured, your bodies will be butchered and rendered into shells. You will all perish by the cold. Not the winter's cold. _The_ cold." He made a hissing noise. "My friends in cells, all in a row. When the mist gets out, watch how they go. They'll die, die, die, one, two, three, four."

Meadowes growled, but didn't move from his guard post.

"Five, then," Nott added upon hearing the growl. "I forgot the twitchy one."

"Your next cell will not be so comfortable," I promised. "It will be dark, it will be cold, and there'll be nobody to talk to but the walls of your box. You'll die listening to yourself starve and suffocate and babble words that mean nothing. Trust me."

Nott laughed an eerie laugh. "And you'll die too! You'll die, you'll all die! You will hear her screams in your head, Harry Potter. Over and over. You will see nothing but the _abyss_."

Then so be it. I put Nott, and his comments, out of mind. There was still one issue to be concerned about.

"Is Ellie all right?" I asked Abe and Su, rubbing the back of my head absently. "Amaris, Strauss and Gladys?"

"They're fine, last we checked," said Abe.

Su nodded in confirmation. "They can't escape, though. When they came to get us, they left some Muggles to watch them - Leeson was one, and a few others. They were all armed, and the Ogdens were herded into one room."

"Their wands?"

"Probably taken, like ours."

"Yeah," I said. "You know who has them? Juliet grabbed mine, I'd bet."

Abe gestured a wizened hand at Meadowes. "This little shit's probably got them."

From the vehemence in his voice, I got the feeling I knew what happened. "He ambushed you at the pub?"

"Didn't see him comin'," Abe said gruffly, sounding more than a little pissed off about it too. "Disarmed me, held me at wandpoint, made me get the others down the stairs. Su tried to get to me, but he pointed his wand at me, and she dropped hers before I got hurt."

"You're welcome, by the way," Su commented.

"Yeah yeah. Anyway, when the pillock here had us tied down with enough magical bindings to keep a Nundu down, he called in the reinforcements. Dozen Muggles, all armed, told to get the other Muggles out of my pub and to keep a watch over the Ogdens and Strauss there. Weren't told a thing else."

"Su said Leeson was one," I pointed out.

"He was leading them. Confused as hell with it all, asking Meadowes what was going on, but Fortess's orders were Fortess's orders, and he'd stay put."

"He won't hurt them," Su said quietly. "Fortess doesn't want them to get hurt."

Abe nodded. "And Strauss won't do anything stupid, especially if they disarmed him too."

It was more the Ogden ladies that I was worried about; Amaris was one thing, my mental image being akin to a trapped and wounded mother tiger, and Gladys could just reveal her violent side if her family was threatened. And Ellie... I hoped she was all right, that she remembered everything I taught her and told her, that she'd be smart about this all. She knew I would coming back, even though my twenty-four hour window had run over.

"So are you two really all right?" I asked after a moment.

"As we could be," Su replied.

"I don't know, I'd feel better with this idiot's blood on the ground," Abe said, glaring daggers at Meadowes, who had been quiet throughout the exchange.

Until now. Meadowes scowled at him. "Listen, barkeep, you're lucky I don't just snap your wand in front of you -"

"You don't have the guts to do it." Abe snorted to himself. "Oh that's right, you don't have any guts to speak of at all, so it would be an expected move for you to do this, right?"

Nott's echoing laughter chilled me to my bones. "That was a good one," he said.

Ignoring him, Meadowes stepped towards Abe's cell and begun to reach into his jacket pocket with his spare hand, his right pointing his wand at Abe's chest. "Which one was yours, again?" he asked waspishly. "I'd hate to have to snap Weasley's or the girl's before -"

"You snap my wand and I'll snap your neck," Ron vowed.

"Snip, snap, snip," Nott babbled.

Meadowes turned on the spot and glared at Ron, then down the hall to Nott when he laughed again, and I got his attention next by clearing my throat loudly and saying, "Calm. Down. All of you."

Abe snorted to himself again, pacing to the end of his little cell and back to the bars angrily. Su slumped down on her stone bench, and Meadowes resumed his post against the wall between their cells, his wand kept close to his chest and his expression angry.

"I should've threatened you more," I told him. "Turned on us quicker than I expected. Guess the gold wasn't enough?"

"The threat wasn't enough, more like," he said, frowning. "That bitch Juliet threatened me with more... _urgency_."

"Let me guess, you wanted to bail after you realised Malfoy was dead?" I said, and he didn't deny it. "But you're their wizard, so no way Fortess would let you go that easily. Malfoy started paying you a year back, getting you used to the idea of all that gold, and when he offered more, you jumped at the chance. Of course, in exchange, you had to help plan the attack on The Burrows, and even be there on the night."

"You know all of this," he said, averting my gaze.

I nodded my head. "I think it'd be best you let us out. This doesn't have to end badly. You're a Hit-Wizard, and the DMLE will look after their own. Maybe you can get off with your life intact, in exchange for helping us."

"No way am I doing that."

Abe grunted out, "Of course he's not."

"Well that's fine, then," I said coldly. "The DMLE wouldn't take you back anyway. You killed one of their own. You know why?"

"Shut up," Meadowes snapped.

"You're weak, and a coward. You must be very rich by now, Lucas. Rich in the blood of innocents. The Burrows was bad enough, that whole night was a fucking mess, but Hart? You chose to kill an ally and co-worker why? Because Draco Malfoy offered to double your pay for it. To make up for Nott."

"Somebody said my naaaaaame..." the monster himself said. Meadowes's head turned his way briefly, his expression haunted. "He tried, oh he tried, but the spell failed!"

"Imperius Curse," I explained to Su, Abe and Ron. "Malfoy heard about Nott, didn't know what to make of it, but he was worried enough to get Meadowes to use an Imperius Curse. It failed, because of Nott's little guardian Dementors."

"Guard, guard, never guard. They take _everything_ -"

"So here we are. After the Nott plan failed and Malfoy thought of killing Hart, he told Meadowes to do it. There was a choice, there, and he chose wrong. He decided to kill Hart. A good man died because of him, and his lust for gold." Malfoy's notes hadn't told me exactly why Meadowes had taken the offer for the gold. He just had, because some men can be bought, whatever their reason. It was doubtful Meadowes had an excuse, and even if he did, it wouldn't matter by now. "And because he was still weak, he's here now. He has our wands, has the key to unlocking these cell doors... He has total control." I laughed hollowly. "When I get out of here, you won't be in control. I made a promise to hand you over to the DMLE, but... I'm sure they wouldn't mind if I took justice in my own hands, just this once."

Silence greeted my words.

Nott greeted the silence, breaking it with his insane ramblings. "The Ford of Gran is doomed this way, doomed forever. None of you will survive. You're all _weak_. Meat, dead meat, when _they_ are done with you."

"That's getting tiring," Ron's voice said, sighing in frustration.

"That'll just encourage him, Ron," I said, keeping one eye on the silently seething Meadowes. "We need to just sit here and wait for Fortess. We have to -"

"_Wait_," Nott breathed out. I felt like, for a second, that I could see him grinning at nothing through broken teeth and bloodied lips. "Ron. Ron. Run. Ron. I know that name."

"Been a while since Hogwarts," Ron commented. "How are you holding up, Nott?"

Nott growled. "And how are you faring, run Ron? Ron, Ron, it sounds familiar, now that i think about it."

"Madder than ever," Ron murmured.

"That's what it was." A clicking sound echoed through our prisons; he'd clicked his fingers together, as if remembering.

And I suddenly got the feeling what.

"Don't listen," I said hurriedly. "Ron, hands over your ears, now. Don't let him -"

I had no way of knowing if Ron stopped listening, because Nott hadn't stayed quiet. He solved a problem he had pondered on, when I first met him.

_"She, the Mudblood, said something before she died. What was it, again? She was screaming it, and I _should_ remember -"_

"Me-gan, May-gan, Mee-gan," said Nott. "She was screaming like a stuck pig, and I _had_ stuck her. One word, over and over, in her anguish, her last scream, her _only_ scream. I didn't silence her, I didn't want to. I revelled in that scream, Ron. _Your name_. Over, and over, and _over_ -"

Abe, Su and even Meadowes stiffened, their eyes casting towards Ron's cell. For a moment I desperately needed to see how close he was to snapping, or if he had heard at all...

I heard him sigh. He had.

"I know better," he said quietly. "You can't piss me off that easily," he announced in a louder tone. "I don't care what you did, you monster. You'll get what's coming to you, but not now, not today, not while you have that amulet around your neck."

"But _Ron!"_ Nott screeched. His voice increased several octaves, and he began to scream, "Ron, Ron, _Ron_! Ron! Oh, Ron!" He cackled to himself. "Over, and over, and over. Blood and tears and a throat burned to ash. _Ron!"_

"The second we figure a way to get him out and remove the dead man's switch..." Ron muttered through the wall to me. "I get first dibs. Dying man's wish and all."

"Yeah, sure thing mate," I replied, another part inside of me breaking because he would soon be _dead_, and nothing could save him from that.

Nott kept up with the show for another few minutes, until he began coughing and spluttering through his scratched and torn throat. When he stopped, Meadowes sighed in relief; he hadn't so much as twitched, this time, thankfully. When Nott tried to start again, _Ron, Ron, Ron_, he was drowned out by the sound of the cage door leading to the cells opening again.

I perked up, expecting to see Fortess, but instead all I saw was Stanthorpe, and his look was horrified as he took in the newest prisoners at the back of Granford's police station. "What the hell is going on here?" he demanded of Meadowes, who had surreptitiously hidden his wand up his jacket sleeve.

"We came back," I said, nodding my head in the direction of Ron's cell. "Sorry we didn't tell you we were; we wanted this to be a bit more... simpler, than this."

"But what..." Stanthorpe shook his head. "What do you mean?"

"That they're liars, Stanthorpe," came Fortess's even tone, and the cage door leading to the rest of the station opened and closed again. Juliet came into view first, hawkishly watching the four of us, and Fortess followed. The night was beginning to wear on him, and it showed here and there - a stray hair rendered lifeless, a new line on his face, a practised movement to keep his hands steady. At least my headache had stopped, though I felt no less nervous than he looked like he did.

"What do you mean?" Stanthorpe repeated. He looked at Ron and me, sitting behind our cells, and his gaze was incredulous as he turned it back to Fortess. "Look, I know that they came back breaks the rules, but given the circumstances, given that there's two of them - and they were not responsible for their friend's actions -"

"They were, and more than you know," said Juliet.

"Sorry, Jules, I am, but locking them up? Why didn't you just shoo them away, or just... I don't know, but why are they... Liars..." He trailed off, turning on the spot as if in realisation. I saw the back of him for a full, heavy, moment, and his shoulders slumped. He'd just realised Abe and Su were locked up too. "What are those two doing in there?"

"Stan -" Fortess began.

"_How_ are they liars?" Stanthorpe asked with force.

Fortess's eyes turned flinty. "They're liars because, all four of them, tricked us, deceived us. They're people here on their own agenda, and they were using us, Stan. Granford is nothing more than a pawn to them. Their inclusion to my town, our town, was a move, a play... Like a great game to them. They stole our resources, they put us in danger, but the worst part? They're a part of something bigger, something that never, ever, considered just helping us for the sake of it."

I winced at his words; all true. Malfoy would've made sure he knew the circumstances, and about how ultimately, we really could've just _helped_ them instead of involve the Wizengamot as we did. It all went back to Malfoy's manipulations, to Kingsley's resignation, Robards's appointment, and my own desperation. The word that seemed to suit best is 'clusterfuck', honestly.

"I don't understand," said Stanthorpe, because of course he wouldn't. Out of everyone here, he was the only one still left in the dark.

"Tell me Stan," Fortess began, casting a look back at me. "Do you believe in magic?"

Stanthorpe snorted. "_What_?"

"With enough magic, somebody could survive the apocalypse, am I right? Why stand around and getting bitten by a zombie when you can just disappear from the spot and appear in another? Food a problem? Summon it out of thin air. Wave your magic wand, and all your problems go away." Fortess cast his eyes to the ground, shaking his head. "If there was more than one, if there was over two thousand of these wizards, how would you react? How would you take the idea that they could've helped us, but didn't?"

"But that... makes no... Aaron, have you lost it?"

"He hasn't," Juliet said.

"Not yet," Nott piped up.

"Meadowes, show him," said Fortess. Meadowes shot him a "what the fuck are you doing?" look, but relented eventually under the other man's gaze. Stanthorpe watched carefully as Meadowes withdrew his wand and pointed it at the other end of the hall.

"What spell?" he asked.

"Patronus," Fortess replied, and that made my eyebrows go up. Then again, I suppose it was a definitive kind of spell to show; it wouldn't be mistaken for a mundane magic trick, not when the feeling of warmth rushed over the body and pulsed through the veins. Pure magic, the best kind.

Lucas Meadowes seemed to take a moment in order to conjure up a happy memory, but he had something in that mind of his that seemed to work. He incanted, "_Expecto Patronum," _and a burst of luminous white light filled the cells. Meadowes's Patronus wasn't as corporeal as mine, but the wispy shape that emerged from his wand almost resembled a fox-like creature. The creature pranced around everyone's feet, circling around Stanthorpe as directed for more than a few seconds. Meadowes dismissed the light away from them, and I saw Stanthorpe shiver at the lost warmth.

And then, when the Patronus came down his end of the room, Nott _screamed_.

It was... a horrible sound, and I knew something of screams. The wail bounced off the walls, the roof, the jail cell bars, and all of us got hit by it. Su and Meadowes stuck their hands over their ears, Stanthorpe's shoulders started shaking, Abe looked mildly annoyed, and Fortess and Juliet both turned towards the source of the noise, the awful noise. The scream sounded like a man in a tremendous amount of pain, like he had felt no other pain like it before. There were no words to it, no rhyme or rhythm, but I could almost make out the want for death, and now, rather than feel that pain again.

The Patronus. It had been the Patronus.

Eventually, Nott stopped, his screams tapering off as the back of his throat began to noisily protest, and I immediately tried to get Fortess's attention, calling his name, once, twice, three times.

He held up a hand to stop me, but didn't look my way. His focus was on Stanthorpe. "You felt that, didn't you? Before he started to scream, you felt that warmth."

"I... It... Felt like I did, back before," he replied slowly.

"Before what?" I asked, watching carefully.

He turned and met my eyes. "Before I saw Liliford in the mist."

"That's magic, Stan," Abe said softly.

"This is nuts," Stanthorpe said succinctly. "I don't..."

Juliet began to pace in front of the cell. "It's not just Meadowes. They're all wizards."

"Witch," Su corrected.

"I wasn't lying when I said there was more than two thousand of them," said Fortess. "Stan, these are lying, deceiving people. Harry Potter and his friends risked your life when you went into London to save them."

"My life too," Juliet pointed out, keeping a careful eye on Su after her comment. "All the shit we've been through is because they wouldn't lift a finger -"

"That's enough," I said forcefully. "I don't want to get into it, not with everyone here and with me behind bars at present. Suffice to say there are sides to the story not everyone's privy to, and best of all, nobody's painted in a particularly good light. Fortess." This time, I got his full attention. "I don't want to drag our dirty laundry in front of everyone here. Let's talk in private, like we should. Please."

He waited a full second before nodding slowly.

Stanthorpe ran a hand through his short hair and exhaled a heavy breath. "I don't understand... I need to get out of here."

Fortess said, "Tell nobody, Stan."

"Who'd believe me?" he said sardonically.

"I'm sorry," I told him, my voice sounding hollow to my own ears.

He left without another word. When he was gone, Fortess gestured to Meadowes, who unlocked my cell with a wave of his wand. The door swung open, but I didn't move; Juliet's gun was pointed at my head, after all.

"Juliet," said Fortess. "I need his wand."

His deputy looked at him like he lost it. "Are you -"

"I won't ask twice, Juliet."

She reluctantly slung her rifle over her shoulder, reached into her inner jacket pocket, and pulled out my wand holster, still occupied by my wand. I couldn't help the sigh of relief that escaped me as I saw it was intact. Fortess took the holster, fiddled with the sliced straps for a second, before pocketing it himself.

"For your sake, I hope I don't have to destroy this," he said gravely.

I tipped my head to him. "Hold onto it. I don't mean any harm."

"Much obliged," he said. "Meadowes, a binding of some kind."

My ankles snapped towards each other first, drawn together as if they were magnetised. I barely kept my footing, using both of my hands to reach for the wall and balance myself. Of course, my wrists snapped together like my ankles did, and I would've fallen to the ground if Fortess hadn't grabbed me by the forearm. His grip was like iron, and the look on his face told me that he wouldn't tolerate any sudden moves. I nodded to assuage him, and his grip was released when I was steady again.

"Wait here," he instructed Juliet and Meadowes. "All of you, just wait."

Slowly, he led me out of the cell. "I'll be back soon," I assured Abe and Su, who I saw first. I turned my head and finally caught a glimpse of Ron, who looked pale and sweaty. He nodded his head in a resigned sort-of way; he was fine, for now. "Stay put, okay."

"Not thinking of going anywhere else," he murmured.

"You'd best listen to what he has to say, Aaron," Abe said. "Just _listen_. For the sake of Granford."

"There's no other reason to," Fortess murmured, looking at me. "Potter, whenever you're ready."

"Yeah, okay." I turned to Meadowes. "Don't let Nott get to you," I said. "Or you'll kill us all." My gaze went to Juliet, who smirked back. "You too."

"Nobody will kill anybody," Fortess said. "That much I can promise."

That was good enough, for now. Our cells were just to the right of the cage door leading to the hallways behind the reception area, and in frog-marching myself across on my bound feet and wrists, I had enough time to get a good look at Nott, sprawled out on the ground of his cell, twitching. His eyes, staring at the roof as soundless screams died in his open mouth, flickered towards me for a second. Just a second.

And as much as I didn't want to leave him alone like this, with my friends locked behind bars and their captors both murderers, I had to.

It was time Aaron Fortess and I talked things out.

..::..-.-..::..

"I don't know where to start," I admitted, trying to get comfortable in my chair.

"Are you going to be honest?" Fortess asked, circling around to sit behind his desk.

"I want to be, there's no reason otherwise. Everything's on the line, the stakes are at their highest. Aaron Fortess, you may not believe a single word I say, but please, just listen. Let me think that I've tried, even if I fail." I took a deep breath. "Or all of this was for nothing. And I don't want that. You don't want that. How many people have died? Should their deaths mean _nothing_?"

Fortess considered that for a moment. We were locked up in his office, which, compared to Ogden's or Robards, was, put simply, _small_. It was a little box, barely enough room it to fit the desk, made of a flimsy sandy-coloured wood and indented with little pockmarks and stained with various fluids, like tea, coffee, maybe some blood, collected over the years. The desk was overworked and tired, stuffed into the box along with two chairs and a metal filing cabinet. The rest of the office was drab grey walls and roof, no windows and a flickering lightbulb the only source of illumination in the room. It was dank, dim and uninviting, but had once been a lot more functional. Offices changed with people, and Fortess had gone through a lot of changes lately. I watched as his hands, one still bandaged from what he did to Nott, swept off the paper, pens and pencils off the desk and into one of his desk drawers without the man's eyes never leaving me. I felt like I was under study, but didn't back down.

"Not what you were expecting?" he said, gesturing around to the rest of the office. "It was mine back when I was just an officer. Nothing compared to the one I have in the town hall now, given my status as this town's leader, but I do most of my work here. It helps me think."

"I don't have an office," I said. "I do my thinking somewhere a lot more... scenic."

He didn't smile. "I have my spot on the west side of town, which you saw. Whatever works, right?"

"Yeah." I examined the desk again, now free of the clutter it held before. There was a small plaque sitting by Fortess's elbow, and I read the title out loud. "Sgt. A. Mackenzie. Mackenzie?"

"My name, before all of this." He shrugged. "Before I was Fortess."

"Right."

"There, that's me being honest as well," he said. "I can't expect you to be entirely truthful if I don't promise the same. Despite everything, I want this to be fair. Things have happened, things neither of us can take back. Do you understand?"

I nodded. "You have questions? I'll let you go first."

He leaned back in his chair. "He told me you were famous in your world."

"Malfoy?" I let out a snort. "Yeah, I am."

"You don't sound particularly enamoured with the fame."

"You know what I did? You know why I'm famous?"

"For killing a radical, maniacal, wizard who wanted to eradicate the world of Muggles. When you were a child."

"The Boy-Who-Lived, they called me for years," I remarked. "Never liked the title. Then I was Undesirable Number One, then the Man-Who-Won, Auror Potter, Healer Potter... Lots of history, lots of names. You got to choose yours. If I got to choose, there'd be only two names I'd change, and neither of them would be mine..." I cleared my throat and patted the pocket inside my jacket. The ring, the note, both there. "Brings me to my next point. I was originally made famous for something I had no part in. But what I did when I was older, I did out of a conviction, because it was the right thing. I'm not doing this, now, out of obligation to my fame or whatever you might think. Right thing."

"This really means that much to you?" His tone was even, and his face betrayed nothing.

"Yes."

"Then why haven't you done _more_?" he asked pointedly.

I swallowed heavily. "Because I didn't see. Because I went about things the wrong way, out of a misplaced sense of wanting to do things right. I guess you could say I succumbed to the things I hated as a teen. Maybe I went soft... but I still have my mean side." Harper got a good face full of that, and Malfoy would've too if not for his damned plans. "Our world is isolated enough to make you forget the rest of it, and that's what I did. We're divided by ideals and blood racism, and despite the fact the last war we had nearly caused us to implode, we haven't changed. When the smoke cleared and we realised how unscathed we were after the outbreak, I thought we could change. There's been hints, here and there, but that's just it. Out of the two of us, I think you're the one who thinks people can change the most. Remember? Malfoy said something completely opposite that once."

_"People change in events like this one, Harry Potter, and our true faces are shown, the good and the bad."_

_"People don't change so easily, Potter. It takes a big event like the Dementor's Stigma to make that apparent."_

"I like your advice better," I said. "The best of us, the worst of us. Not so simple sometimes, those lines aren't quite defined, but... To the outside viewer, for example, you would look corrupt."

Fortess stiffened in his chair.

"Because of The Burrows," I elaborated.

"I didn't want that."

"I know, I know... I know a lot of things, but there are some things that are just better said aloud. I want to talk, that's all, and I want to hear your side of things."

Fortess shook his head. "Why should I? What's there to gain? You think Malfoy has lied?"

"I know he hasn't lied," I admitted. "He's omitted the truth, many times, but never outright lied."

"How do you know this?"

"Doesn't matter, I just do."

"Does it have something to do with his death?"

"Everything and nothing." The notes I'd gotten from his study, of course, had been fastidious in how he swayed Aaron Fortess. He hadn't written down the emotions or the decisions Fortess had made and how he made them, but he had down everything he forgot to completely tell the truth about. "You know why he didn't lie? He would know right away the kind of man you are, the kind who could see past the lies."

"But can I?" Fortess questioned. "At this point I can't tell whether or not I've been lying to myself by saying I'm not in over my head."

I chuckled ruefully. "Aren't we all." The laugh subsided. "But when there's doubt, I usually try and focus on what I'm fighting for. Sarah, my fiancee. And you? For. Tess."

His gaze turned distant, and he focused his eyes on the plaque on his desk. I got the feeling a picture once stood on this desk, framed and displaying a static moment in peaceful time, now lost. "I did everything for her," he said. "The name was an idea, and I carried that idea and made it into what I am today. Because of Tess. My wife was a great woman, and aren't they all when you can't, or don't want to, remember the bad times? She died because the world changed, for good."

"Did she die in the outbreak?" I asked softly.

"No, no," he said. "No. This time last year, we were struggling. Granford was losing people daily. Nobody really had the undead under control; we were finding them everywhere, and our attempts at procuring supplies were disastrous, at first. It took a long time before we refined the system we had now, but I digress. We were so unprepared for the winter that we ran out of gas for the generators. Cold, alone, in the dark, suffering from zombie attacks every week, and more people just losing themselves every day. Suicides were common, and when I locked up what little guns we had, they got creative. People would walk into the electric fence, drain our power by overloading the fence and frying there for minutes. Painful way to go, and it didn't help anything worth a damn. We continued to struggle in the winter nights, and worst of all, we had people flock to our town. They replaced those we lost, but... We needed those losses for the sake of rations, and..." His face, growing more and more haunted as time went on, went downright grave, the coffin nailed shut and the dirt buried over. "I turned so many away. It made Tess angry, of course it did, but it was the only way. Juliet tried to help, she always got along with Tess, but something Juliet said only made her more angry. When my wife got angry, she buried herself in work. Before the outbreak, she worked in town hall. Back then we didn't need the order of paperwork, so she made personal visits to people, making sure their bellies weren't completely empty, reminding them to conserve water, and, most importantly, not lose hope. She worked herself into exhaustion, and the cold made her sick. She died in her bed of pnuemonia, and I took her example to heart. I pushed and I pushed, and I got us out of the winter intact. For Tess."

"I'm sorry," I said.

He closed his eyes, and leaned back in his chair with all the weight of the world on his shoulders. "It happens. That's life, especially now. We always struggled, Liliford too. That was how survival worked. A constant battle... I'm sure you know what it's like."

"I do." Oh yeah, I did. He made no comment on the rest of the wizarding world, and I took it as a good sign. He was opening up, and I could help him along now more than ever. So I probed. "How did Malfoy get involved?"

"Liliford," replied Fortess. "News of its good fortune hit us three months ago. Rumours at first, but back then we had people shuffling back and forth, and they saw the crops grow more bountiful than ever before in that valley. Jackson Blake was no help at the time. He followed my lead in a lot of things, but for this, he had nothing, and he got belligerent when I tried to get him to share his secret. He couldn't explain it, he said it was just like magic, and well, back then, magic wasn't real." He snorted. "The arguments began. We stopped trading supplies. Blake wouldn't cave, and I had no idea why he was so resistant. Then came the letter." He tapped his desk. "Waiting for me on my desk one day. Parchment. Words written by a quill."

How would someone like Malfoy go about introducing himself to the man he was going to manipulate? Well, for one thing, he hadn't introduced himself as the man who was going to manipulate Fortess and destroy his town. The letter, which I had read, was short and to-the-point. Malfoy had said that if Fortess wanted Liliford's fortune for his own town, if he wanted to know how and wanted the same, he would have to be in his office at a certain time, and nobody else would be there.

"He appeared one day soon after. Just appeared out of thin air. Right where you sit now, as if he'd always been there. He introduced himself, and so did I. He noticed the plaque too, and never called me Fortess." He looked annoyed at that. "Suppose it made him feel superior, but to him he probably thought he was being familiar. He didn't understand why I left that name behind, and in hindsight, that should've been a tip-off... The talk we had next was long, arduous. I asked about why he could do magic and I couldn't, what made him so special, and just what magic _was_. He talked in circles about it, but he seemed to believe what he was saying. I asked for demonstrations, and he did little things I thought were tricks." He waved a hand. "Made my desk float. Turned my cabinet into a peacock. Juggled fireballs conjured out of thin air. He told me he could do much, _much_, more, and back then I didn't even ask about Liliford right away. I never thought of myself as a sceptic, but I still needed to see more of this magic."

"So he took you to show some more," I said, because I remembered being disgusted by it when I read about it.

"Funny feeling, apparation. You ever get used to it?"

I shook my head. "Guess we're human too."

He said nothing to that. "When I opened my eyes, I was standing on a shoreline. I think we were somewhere in Ireland; I never did ask. But it was cold, an unnatural cold that I still remember even now. I'd been near it, once, on a supply run in March. The cold came with the mist. Malfoy explained that the mist came with the Dementors. What we called mistfiends weren't just mysterious creatures that snatched people out of their mist. They were soul-sucking monsters, and Malfoy had brought me there, right next to a building full of mist, to provoke them. I felt them, the cold, but I never did see them. Malfoy asked me to step back, and I did. he waved his wand and a great burst of light came forth, and it looked like a king serpent so bright and beautiful it burned my eyes." Fortess closed his eyes in remembrance, trying to recapture that warmth again. Aren't we all. "We talked through the night. He was patient with my questions. When I finally felt like I'd exhausted enough and knew enough about the world, and about the Dementors and the war, I asked why he was there. He explained how the wizards survived the outbreak, and about how our fates were being decided by a political body called the Wizengamot. He was on this body, he said, and he wanted to give me help so he could make them see."

"A lie of omission," I pointed out. "If he explained the Statute of Secrecy, know that his intention was to make the Wizengamot see that it had been broken by Granford getting assistance with magic. He was going to frame me for it, you know."

"I see. At the same time, how many truths did he omit? In your eyes, how much to did he manipulate me?"

"He tell you he fought in the war?"

"Said the entire world got lucky, and so did he."

"He was on the other side, a Death Eater. He got out because he saw the opportunity, and after I killed Voldemort, deals were made. He escaped prison because his mother helped me out, and she promised a debt. Draco still sold out his own father for it. Then, with the outbreak... Should I go on? Shall I say that he knew it was coming before it came, that he made plans to come out the other side in advantage? How my side wanted this bill to pass more than anything else, and he tried to prevent that. Et cetera, et cetera."

Fortess didn't seem to disagree, or distrust, what I was saying, but I don't think the sides really mattered to him. He knew of the disclosure bill, and that there were those who'd do anything to get it passed, and those that would do anything to have it get shot down. He just had the people mixed up, and Malfoy had filled his head enough lies that even if it looked like I was trying to help, I still lied and manipulated Fortess to get into Granford in the first place.

"But what else could I say at the time?" he questioned. "I was desperate, and this was the best deal I was going to get. Even though the idea occurred, more than once, that I was being played, and used, I still had to focus on my town first. The entire wizarding world didn't endear themselves to me, but I needed Malfoy. Pushed into a corner, with winter coming... And then it happened. Overnight, our crops grew in places they wouldn't and in quantities they never would. We saved power because the electric fences now run on magic. The Old Bridge didn't feel the strain of its age anymore; it was magically reinforced. Malfoy said later that he modified the Two Flares. They'd be weatherproofed, and the fire would burn everlasting when the time came to light them. He gave me names, of everyone who worked for your Ministry and resided in town. He told me that, in a pinch, Lucas Meadowes would be the one to go to."

It was the perfect set-up, wasn't it? Sometimes it hurt thinking about how close Malfoy was to winning, and the fact was there was still time for Nott to win instead.

"I told two people at first," Fortess continued. "Two people I trusted the most. About a week after meeting with Malfoy, Juliet and Warren were horrified by your world's political situation. Both did not think you trustworthy at all. I couldn't blame them. Your Wizengamot is playing a game, with lives on the line. They debate, they postulate, they try and pretend we mean something, but really, half of them see us as flies. Your Ministry wasn't much better, from what I understand. Your Minister should've done something more, he should've thrown your Statute out the fucking window. Nothing got done, and we suffered for it. For. A. Year. You all looked down on us - Malfoy did too, like I said. I just didn't realise it at first."

"I agree, I do," I said quickly. "It took me a day to get back here. While I wanted to give you your space, and to do some mourning and some thinking, most of my time was spent telling the Wizengamot to go fuck themselves. I never realised either, and I'm truly sorry for that, but it happened. I was sick of it. People were dying. More people would die. I'm a Healer, remember? I want to save people -"

"If you wanted to save us, you should've quit sooner," Fortess said vehemently. "Before people ended up dead. Before Liliford, for one."

"What were you told about that?"

"The Dementors. Mistfiends." He shivered; naturally. "They were out of control, but they'd once been controlled by wizards, Malfoy had said. He explained how they could be portkeyed right in the middle of town. He said the Ministry put up wards here to prevent that." He grimaced. "The best you all could do. But still, Malfoy told me we were still in danger. The wizards could still gather a few up and unleash them on us from a distance."

What Fortess didn't know was that even Malfoy wouldn't be so sure about controlling the Dementors enough for this. Rounding them up and portkeying them into the centre of Liliford? Damn near impossible. Malfoy had told him in that self-assured way he had, that wizards could've been responsible for Liliford's loss, because of the crops interfering with the Statute. That wouldn't have been an outright lie, again, and Malfoy had played on his fears with that.

Fortess said, "You should've quit. Before innocents..." His eyes flashed, dark and sorrowful. "Like The Burrows."

And there it was, right there in his eyes. The very act that made me truly realise he was corrupt, but it had affected him enough for this reaction. I probed him again. "How did it happen?"

"It was after you came into town," he explained. "When I realised why you and your friends were there - to push your agenda. Malfoy went into it for an hour, but again, no lies. To you, I guess it was a lie of omission?"

I tipped my head; he was right there.

"I was angry, Harry Potter. I'm not proud, trust me on that, but when Warren pushed for a retaliation, I approached Malfoy with the same. He agreed." Fortess swallowed heavily. "He provided the cloaks, the portkeys, the Everlasting Flame, contained in jars. Said he'd add a distraction for us to take advantage of. Gave us Lucas Meadowes to help out. Told us the portkeys would take us where we needed to go. " He sighed. "I wasn't as simple as just going. I... fought. I didn't want to. But Juliet and Warren pushed for it. They took the initiative - I'm not foisting off blame when I say it was their attack, I know I can't deny it was my fault. All of it. I was there. I threw a jar of Everlasting Flame. I watched people flee in terror, and I saw the zombies - the _distraction_. Innocents were slaughtered. My people did the killing. In the night, I watched, like a coward. They were people. Just people. And how many died because of us?"

_A hundred_, I didn't say.

"Warren went missing that night," said Fortess. "I assume he..."

"Yeah, I'm sorry about that," I said. "I didn't mean for it. My friends were under attack, and when I saw the cloaked figure, just watching, I ran for him. He got distracted by one of the undead, and it got him killed." I stopped for a second. "No, I can't foist off blame either. He was bitten, but I didn't know that until after my spell killed him."

Fortess closed his eyes again.

"I burned him when I realised, I had to," I continued. "What else could I do? You'd see it as a taunt if I delivered his body back, and if the Ministry had found him, they would've known... But Warren? He was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I'd been hit with enough stress to kill a normal person, and I reacted. After everything, hitting all those dead ends with this town, and then with Nott taunting me, I was tired. And angry. I just did things. Because of Nott."

"He affected me similarly." Fortess frowned severely, absently rubbing his knuckles. "I was in a haze after the attack and with Warren, and Stanthorpe had just retuned to town with news of Liliford. My town was not filled with any hope that day, and when I made the mistake of visiting the prisoner... You know how he talks, how he acts. It was unnerving, but when he went on about wizards, and then Liliford, I got angry. I nearly killed him a rage, unleashing everything I'd done for my town... But I stopped myself. I needed to think, needed to... I organised a meeting with Malfoy. Told him about Nott. Then he got... scared. He wouldn't talk to me. I approached Meadowes, and he was even quieter. It went on like that for the days, until he told me about the Ogdens, and why they were in my town. Another lie of omission?"

"He poisoned Tiberius Ogden, to manipulate his capacity as Chief Warlock and get himself some insurance," I surmised. "The Ogdens are more innocent than anybody else, and he used them like that."

"Of course he did." Fortess let out a great sigh. "Of course he did."

He sounded defeated, resigned, when it came to Malfoy. Maybe he started to realise how bad Draco Malfoy truly was, which was a very promising sign.

"How did he die?" Fortess asked, breaking me out of my inner victory dance. "Did you..."

"Draco Malfoy was responsible for Draco Malfoy's death," I said tersely. I thought about fully explaining about his tendency to keep zombies as pets, but there was probably only so much Fortess would accept before he decided I was just demonising the man out of personal hatred. Instead, I kept things vague, "He died because he was stupid, and underestimated someone close to him. It wasn't just him who died, either. Before his death he killed an ally of mine that was once his. Then... His wife, somebody I was close to, died with him, practically murdered..." _And I'm to blame to, for both of them_.

Fortess didn't ask me to elaborate further, but appeared to believe I hadn't outright murdered him. That was something. "The last message I got from him was to ignore that the man you told us was Ellie Ogden's father was missing," he said. "Hart, I think his name really was. Completely disappeared. Meadowes was injured that same day. I put two-and-two together."

I nodded. "Guess he wasn't nice enough to keep up communications after he died."

"He was not."

"Yeah. Would've solved some problems if he was still alive."

"Would've caused more too, by the sounds of it."

"Yeah," I said again.

"So..." Fortess leaned forward in his chair, his tiredness long gone and replaced with a sort-of alert state; the hardest bump had been pushed through, and now it was time to get down to business. "He never told me anything about Nott. How big of a danger is he?"

"Big," I said succinctly, briefly summarising the dead man's switch, the Dementors torture, and everything else Theodore Nott. I kept Malfoy's name out of it. "Our best solution? Evacuate the town, let Nott rot in there alone. Give us time to work on removing the spells on the amulet, and somehow stopping him from getting killed or releasing them anyway."

"Evacuate the town? And go where, after abandoning everything? That's a thousand people -"

"Homes and resources can be rebuilt and replenished," I insisted. "It's more than Granford at stake. If everyone here gets eaten, the Dementors have enough food to breed themselves an army, the kind that could end the wizarding world for good. And if we go, there's no stopping them from making the rest of the world mist. I don't want that."

"I am not too fond of the wizards myself," he said.

"But we need each other. And if you want to kill yourself and the town just to spite us, just think. We're people too. You said you saw that at The Burrows."

He went silent, pensive.

"There are people that want you all to survive. Malfoy's contingent is neutralised, and the common people, the ones that make the rest of our world turn? They want this too, they need this. The Wizengamot, much as I dislike it, was being swayed by my actions in trying to save you. They're voting now, right now, and even if it doesn't pass because Malfoy still made sure to have numbers there to stop it, I got through to the Minister. If we take things slow, and make sure nobody can destroy the town, we have the chance. I'm not the only one who'll do the right thing in a pinch. You know the why of it, why I'm trying. I never lied about that. Even if you don't believe me..."

"But you're asking me to. And here we are," said Fortess. "You're back in my town after I kicked you out, and you've got your friends, your convictions."

"You'll have to take a leap of faith," I said simply. "That's why I'm here. I want to believe you are incorruptible, in the end, that Malfoy was a temporary setback. Tonight can be the first step." I took a deep breath. "You're Fortess. It's why you fight. I am Forsarah. Forastoria. Forgranford. And the next move is all of yours."

And there was nothing else to say. If he shot me down, figuratively and literally, right here, right now, then so be it. I'm more than willing to die if need be, but I would hope that it wouldn't doom the Muggles in the process. Maybe I shouldn't have provoked him like this, but I had by infiltrating the town in the first place. There was nothing else to do but hope.

"This is what we'll have to do," Fortess said after a moment. _We_, he'd said. _We_. "It will not be so simple, our two groups coming together. My people will share the same natural distrust I did. That you're helping now might be enough, or it might not. Regardless, I won't be forgiven easily, and neither will your side. I am sorry about The Burrows, just as you are that circumstances pushed you into killing Warren." He studied me intently across the desk, and his facial features had regained a hard, determined, fire. "Locking you all up was a mistake, even though Juliet took the initiative -"

That made me frown for some reason.

"- and again, not foisting off the blame, so I know I'll be held responsible. We'll have to make some sort of deal with your Minister. You might yet have to be hostages, and you and your friends too. You can be a negotiator -"

I interrupted him with, "No. Not my friends, not the Ogdens either. They should be let go. I won't sacrifice them, not after every other move I've made. I like to think I know better by now. I don't play that game with people's lives anymore."

Fortess, strangely enough, cracked an honest smile. "Good. Good. That was a test. You want my trust? That helps. You mean business, but you won't go about it the wrong way again. So let's get down to it. We'll release Ron, Aberforth and Su -"

I paused. The thought from earlier struck again.

"You said it was Juliet's initiative," I said quietly. "That we got locked up. You didn't know we'd be back?"

The smile dropped off of his face. "No..."

"But she did? And... Su, and Abe. Did you know they were magical before now?"

"I did... not. Juliet just locked them up and told me so."

"But how did she know?" I asked myself.

Juliet O'Flynn knew. She knew about Abe and Su, something that Malfoy hadn't even covered, and she knew other things too. She knew how to threaten Lucas Meadowes enough. She knew how to handle me. taunting me while she knew I couldn't act. She was self-assured, this whole time, and I'd assumed it was because Fortess had filled her in... But what...

And Terry.

It all slid into place.

"Juliet," I said. "We need to talk to her, now. She's a danger."

"But how?" Fortess demanded, but he rose from his chair anyway. I did the same, despite the awkwardness of the magical binding. "How?"

"Only one way to find out for sure," I said. "You still have my wand?"

"Yes."

"Keep a hold of it, whatever you do. We have to go to her, _now_."

We pushed out of Fortess's dingy little office, out into the hallway, and headed straight and turned a corner to enter the main hallway, the cage door leading to the cells at one end and the main reception area at the other. We went for the cage door, and Fortess snapped for somebody to unlock the door for him. Juliet herself did so, and she looked at the two of us carefully, her hands still clutching her rifle.

"I need you to give me that," said Fortess, his voice steady and firm. "Juliet, hand over the rifle."

She furrowed her eyebrows. "Why, what -" Then she looked at me, and the expression I had on my face. "What did he say?"

"Juliet, the rifle."

"What did he say?" she demanded. "Aaron, you know what these people will do, or say. He could've used magic -"

"You don't need magic to make people look like something they're not," I said coolly.

"Juliet, have you been keeping something from us?" Fortess asked, hand reaching for the rifle...

She twitched, and Fortess took the chance to grasp for the gun, snapping the strap around her shoulder to take it from her. Her rifle, shining with varnish and her name burned into the side, was held in his hands, and it took a second for Juliet to realise. She let out a little indignant cry, and her hand went for the gun on her hip -

"No," Fortess said in a tone that brokered no fucking argument. "Tell us what you're hiding. How did you know Harry and Ron were coming back to town?"

"Who told you?" I asked. "Who was it?"

Her eyes were pleading as she looked at Fortess. "I never meant -"

"Dammit Juliet, you answer the question," he said. "For me, answer it."

And she said two words.

"Samuel Stark."

"How?" I spat.

Juliet backed into the cells, and we followed. The others all looked unharmed, but curious at the commotion, especially Meadowes. "I was approached a year ago," she explained. "Not by Stark, but by a man who introduced himself as the Minister for Magic."

Robards. Oh fuck, the only reason he would appear to a Muggle like that, a Muggle with a close tie to the leader of Granford...

"He wanted me to be a spy," she said. "He told me about magic, about his world, and how there were those that wanted us all dead. He told me that, for Granford's greater good, I had to keep tabs. I had to tell him if there were threats to your life." She directed that last part to Fortess; in fact, she seemed to only be talking to him.

"And you agreed?" he asked carefully, his face a mask. "You agreed to spy on me?"

"What other choice did I have?" Juliet snapped. "He told me they would erase my memory if I said no, and get somebody else. Stanthorpe, or Warren, and..." The most earnest, appealing, look I'd ever seen on her flashed as she implored Fortess, "You had just lost Tess. I was told that I could help protect you while the wizards worked on saving us entirely. You had nobody else, not after Tess, and I thought... I thought I could make it work. We're closer than you are to _anybody_ else." She shook her head. "It wasn't just that simple."

"How did Stark get involved?" I asked.

"I never talked to Robards after the first meeting," she replied. "Samuel Stark was his second-in-command, he said, and he trusted him. Stark handled all the operatives in Granford, and since I was one of them, and Robards was busy with your Wizengamot... Robards told Stark to give me everything I'd need, about your world. And I got what I needed. I got enough."

Her tone had turned downright spiteful, and Abe guessed, "And you got disgusted with how we were handling the Muggles."

"As I have every right to be!" she exclaimed. "You all look down on us from your high fucking horses in your castles and safe communities, protected by _magic_, while we die! When Stark gave me the files I needed, he had no idea how much of a hole he dug himself in. I learnt about your war -" Juliet rallied around on me. "- and after all that, your solution for us is to wait a year before truly acting? Your Wizengamot, your Ministry, to hell with them both. After the last year, I realised I was being just as bad as you lot, and I decided to tell you, Aaron."

"But you didn't," he said quietly. "You didn't tell me."

"You got manipulated by that shit Malfoy." Juliet scoffed. "I had to act surprised, and tried to be supportive. I tried to push you into telling him off, but Potter didn't help." The iron gaze turned on me next. "Stark told me a lot about you, Harry Potter. Whatever Aaron got told about you from Malfoy was a gross underestimation. I never trusted you, and I tried to tell Fortess that, but... he wouldn't act. I wanted nothing more than to see the wizards burn. I talked Warren into suggesting a retaliation. The Burrows attack."

"You killed people," said Fortess. "You shot them in the back when they ran. They were innocents."

"Like you didn't kill them either!" Juliet burst out. "The blood, _our_ blood, was on their hands, indirectly or not. Liliford was gone by then, and Stark told me the leading theory was that your the mistfiends were released into the town with magic."

"And you never thought to just _tell me_?" Fortess rumbled, his expression angry.

"Of course I did! But you were so full of that bullshit Malfoy was telling you, and you wouldn't listen. The wizards destroyed Liliford."

"Oh fuck off," I interjected, snapping my bound wrists towards Nott's cell. He had remained studiously quiet throughout; his throat must've still been torn from earlier. "Liliford was destroyed by him, not the rest of us!"

"I don't see the difference," Juliet said stiffly. "The Dementors were in wizard's control -"

"And then they destroyed the world with that disease!"

"I just see murderers, all of you."

"And what was Terry?" I asked coldly. "Huh? What was he? An accident?"

Something that almost looked like remorse flittered across her face, but she visibly squashed it. "He was... fond of me. Everyone knew. I didn't like him, I didn't care for him. He was a liar, a strange, idiotic, liar. I needed to get you all away from my town. He needed to go to do it."

"And the almost-rape?"

"Staged it. He didn't understand, right up until the end."

Fortess flinched as if struck, Juliet's flat tone hitting him right where it hurt. While Malfoy and I had played our game and he didn't trust either of us, he had always trusted Juliet, his second-in-command, his friend. He looked hurt, angry, frustrated, and everything I'd felt lately with all the events weighing down on me.

Fortess wouldn't meet her eyes, and Juliet looked no happier about it, so I got her attention. "Stark," I said. "How much did he tell you about me?"

She shrugged. "The truth. Your file from the DMLE. The crimes you committed in the war, but were never charged for."

"Did it ever sound like he had anything against me?"

"I never knew; we sent letters."

Samuel Stark might've just been against me, but at the same time, not. To simplify, Stark was once part of a group of Aurors who, back at the beginning, heard about the outbreak in the Muggle world, and linked it back to The Stigma in the wizarding world. They wanted to act, this group, but Robards and Kingsley were acting in a different way, considering every option, and Stark and his ilk took action the moment Hunt let them into St Mungo's. Auror Lobell was a man driven into doing a horrible thing, and I let him die for it. Later, when the smoke cleared, Robards had taken care of the survivors, as he'd told me - Savage had been busted down and kept under wraps, but Stark had been different. Stark had run to Robards, earned his trust, and given what I knew of the man, there was no reason to doubt he was earnest about it.

Then there was me. Stark would've known, via Neville's report, that Lobell acted rashly, and died under mysterious circumstances. Stark would've not been my biggest fan, for that and the fact I was subverting the Minister in my actions. Susan had said he was hounding her, making sure she didn't spill DMLE secrets for me, and now I knew why. I was subverting Robards - Harper's death, how I handled Ogden on my own - but I had my reasons, and Robards knew them. Robards, in the end, was displeased but able to move past it. Our final talk, just earlier today, had cleared that air. But for Stark, he didn't know. He had already filled in Juliet on how much to distrust me, and when he heard, in the meeting, that I was taking matters into my hands, he had acted. In what he saw as the Minister's best interests, because he betrayed Robards once, and didn't want to do it twice.

He was the one who told Juliet I was coming back. He was the one who had pointed her towards Su and Abe. She had done the rest; threatening Meadowes, waiting and baiting the trap outside the station...

And here we were. She and Stark had almost ruined everything.

"Aaron," said Juliet, reaching forward with her hand. "Aaron, I'm sorry."

He ignored the hand, shaking his head side to side in disbelief. "I can't believe you would do this. After everything I've done for you."

"I never meant -"

"Tess and I took you in, years ago."

"I'm grateful, you know I am -" Her breath hitched in her throat. "More than you know."

"Grateful enough to kill for me, Julie? Is that it?"

"Because I loved you!" she burst out, withdrawing her hand in anger. "Because I trusted you more than anybody else in the world, and when you lost Tess, I thought you would..." When Fortess said nothing, when he refused to meet her eyes entirely, she continued, "I thought you would trust me. I thought you would listen to me, without question. I told you that these wizards were bad, and... I..."

"I wouldn't have asked you to kill for me," Fortess said sadly. "Not ever. Not after how you grew up. I wanted you to leave that behind you. The zombies are different, but I always made sure you weren't becoming what you were after you killed one. But Terry... You killed him in cold blood, to _protect me_?"

"No, no, I had to -"

"You did not!" he roared. "You pushed me into The Burrows, into murdering how many people when we burned their homes to the ground and hid in the shadows? Do you know what that did to me, Julie? Do you understand?"

"Everything I've done -"

"Has been too much."

"Has been to keep you safe, Aaron!" She stepped forward, but under Fortess's gaze she might as well being walked against a raging tide. "I've been trying to protect you, and I'm sorry I lied, I'm sorry I never let you know what I feel, but you can't tell me I'm wrong about this! About them!" She waved a hand my way, and I stayed silent. "Not with Granford on the line. Tell me that you'll handle this, Aaron. Tell me that they're all dead. Please."

Fortess said, "No."

And Juliet O'Flynn broke down, pushing herself back into the bars of the cell beside Su's, her eyes filling with bitter, angry tears.

I didn't feel sympathy, or anything at all, not really. I only looked to Fortess for his reaction.

He was refusing to meet her gaze, and the anguish was plain on his face. "Harry," he said to me, softly. "I will follow your lead on this."

"The hostage plan has merit," I said. "Not as hostages per say, but as shows of good will. I'll stay here to play mediator, and we'll open up a communication with Robards. If the bill's passed, this'll be resolved a lot simpler. So I'll stay, but we let these three go."

"I'll stay too," Ron croaked. "Not like I've got somewhere better to be." He nodded at me seriously. "Let me stay, Harry."

I nodded back. "Right."

"But, but, what about me?" Lucas Meadowes protested. "What am I supposed to do? I can't just go back -"

"You can, and you will," Fortess said firmly. He toyed with the rifle he got from Juliet in his hands. "If you want to try otherwise, be my guest. Harry knows where his wand is."

"But that's not..." Meadowes sighed, his expression mutinous. "Fuck you all."

"Well deserved," Abe murmured. "You twat."

Not immediately trying to kill us all was the smartest thing Meadowes would ever do, I reckoned.

"They won't let you off so easily, Muggle," he warned Fortess. "The people we're crossing have long memories, and even if you have our world backing you officially, they'll never stop looking down on you."

"If so, that'll just be a new facet of survival," Fortess said. "If need be, I'll sacrifice myself. Exile myself." At the look on my face, he held up a placating hand. "If need be. I don't want to abandon my people, but like you said, I might have to take a leap of faith. The current leadership of Granford's been corrupted by Draco Malfoy. It'll be for the best if I do. If I have to. I regret The Burrows too much for there not to be _something_ done. Too much death, in my eyes."

He wandered down to the other end of the room, and every set of eyes in the room followed him. "But first..." He stood in front of Nott's cell, walking towards the bars with a determined look on his face. "We work out how to get rid of you, monster. I intend, very much, that you suffer for what you did to Liliford."

"I had an idea for that," I said. "Earlier, with Meadowes's Patronus. You saw how he reacted. It's because of the Dementors in the amulet, and the link they have to him. Might be able to control him with the Patronus, like we'd do a Dementor."

"Sounds like a plan," said Fortess, eyeing Nott distastefully. "You hear that, Nott? We're going to take care of you." He stepped forward again, and just when it felt like he was too close -

Fortess let out a soft, "Oh", as Nott whipped up, took the older man by the arm and slammed him against the bars of the cell, _hard_. The noise made us all react at once, and I hopped through my bindings down that end of the hall, while Ron and Meadowes exclaimed in surprise. Nott's arm snaked itself around Fortess's neck, and started to squeeze.

"I... don't... think... so," Nott hissed, the words rasping through his torn throat, laced with pure malice. "Muggle... I... will -"

Juliet's gun barked, _BANG_, and Fortess fell to the floor.

My neck whipped her way instantly, to the pistol held in her hands, the same one that had killed Terry. Her gaze was furious steel through her tears. She slowly walked, and I watched in a haze as she aimed the pistol higher, pointed for Nott's head.

Nott took a moment to realise what had happened, his mad gaze moving from the bullet hole in his arm, spurting blood all over the uninjured Fortess, and then back to Juliet. He slowly began to grin, and my heart began to pound as he said, "Come on pretty. Do -"

"Don't!" I cried, but it was too late.

_BANG!_ went Juliet's gun, the bullet rushed through the air, and I could only watch as it collided with Nott's throat. He stumbled back a step, choking at nothing as the blood bubbled through his lips and out the vicious hole torn into his flesh. He stepped back once more, before collapsing onto the stone bench. He twitched, once, twice, and didn't move again.

I moved forward, disbelief coursing through me with the afterechoes of Juliet's gun firing, and I saw Theodore Nott's body. The last laugh was etched on his face forever.

The silver amulet around his neck twitched, flipping itself out of the blood pooling around the corpse's throat, emerging through the crimson curtain with a splash. It moved on its own, the spell of it activated by the death of the man it was leeching of. That _they_ were leeching off.

_No_.

Not like this.

Not after _everything_.

The chain rose into the air with the rest of the amulet, as it started to spin and spin, noiseless with a feeling of building tension, of a great power unleashing in waves -

"My wand!" I cried. "Fortess, I need my wand!"

And then all hell broke loose.

..::..-.-..::..

_To Be Concluded in Chapter Sixteen: Incident..._

..::..-.-..::..

Post-Chapter Notes:

- _Author's Note :: _Dun dun dun. And we're one week away from the monster-sized final chapter, which may take the cake as my favourite, to write and to read. Shit's gonna go down, and even if you all haven't liked how things have progressed, I hope you all check out the final chapter anyways.

_- Next Chapter Tease ::_ With the Dementors unleashed, Granford must fight all night for its survival.

_- Wizengamot Scorecard ::_

- _Pro-Disclosure_ :: Neville, Susan, Boot, Brown, Patil, Diggory, MacMillan, Smith.

- _Anti-Disclosure_ :: Parkinson, Bulstrode, Selwyn, Burke.

- _Swing Votes_ :: Zabini, Cuffe.

- _Former Members ::_ Bill Weasley (Resigned), Isaac Aquilla (Dead), Hoster Harper (Dead), Artemis Hart (Dead), Grey Gale (Forcibly resigned, then killed). Draco Malfoy (Dead), Astoria Malfoy (Replaced Gale, then killed), Harry Potter (Resigned).

- _Member Count ::_ Fourteen.

- _Status ::_ Evenstalled.

Thanks for reading!

..::..-.-..::..


	16. Chapter Sixteen: Incident

_Standard Disclaimer_ :: All things Harry Potter belong to JK Rowling and affiliates. This fanfiction is a non-profit venture written for the enjoyment of myself and my readers.

_Dedication :: _To Seratin, Lutris, Zeitgeist, Vira, KaiDASH, Palindrome, Kens and my friends from DLP, for putting up with my insanity, for reading early drafts, and just being there. Special dedication to Aekiel, Klackerz and Klael, who get zombie cameos in this chapter, and Mishie, for putting up with it all. Also, to all those who reviewed/favourited/alerted me or my story here on FFnet, cheers, and super triple special awesome dedications to all my regular reviewers and readers. Props to DLP for the continual feedback, too - anyone reading this who hasn't devoured their C2 on this very site must do so now. It's the first community on the list, for a damn good reason, and I'm more than happy to have this story a part of it too. And to Emily, who enthused the awesomeness of this fic to a friend of mine, and even got him to finally read the story! So cheers.

_Preface :: _Well, this is it. The final chapter comes in just under thirty-thousand words, and, in my opinion, is one hell of a ride. This whole story has been a ride, with its ups and downs, but when I'll look back, I'll never not love it. It's March now, and this chapter was written back in October, planned out in parts in the course of years beforehand, so getting it out there and being able to add "Complete" to this story's status feels just so satisfying. My end of chapter author's note will get into my thoughts a bit more, but yeah, I should stop rambling in here and do it in the story. Onwards!

Oh, and since I forgot to put it in the last chapter's Next Chapter Tease, I feel I should inform you all: Zombies. In this chapter. A fuckton. Enjoy.

_Previously :: _Back at the height of the war, Voldemort experimented on Muggles to create more widespread and potent ways to murder them, and in the process fed the remains to his pet Dementors. When the war ended, those Dementors were locked up under Azkaban, and when they next bred, they created a breeding mist of the souls they had devoured, which was usual, and used various side effects of the soul magic Voldemort had used to create a cocktail of badness, a singular disease to get what they wanted. And they wanted out. They spread The Dementor's Stigma in the mist, and it soon wiped out most of the world. The wizards, not as affected as the Muggles given the disease's origins, were able to band together enough to survive the worst of the outbreak, despite losing Diagon Alley, St Mungo's, and the Ministry building. Plans were put into place to protect the surviving Muggles to the extent they could without breaking the still-relevant Statue of Secrecy, and a year of just surviving ensued.

In the Wizengamot, twenty-one wizards and witches debated over the lives of the Muggles, with the ultimate vote being put towards a bill to dissolve the Statue and render aid to the Muggles in a more direct way. The staunchest purebloods were always against the idea, and Minister Robards was prevented from outright destroying the Statue himself due to the threat of another civil war, which would quickly implode on the wizards and destroy their race as a whole. So while the purebloods, under the leadership of Draco Malfoy, put in minimal effort to keep the bill from passing, the side under the banner of Harry Potter pushed every which way in order to try to get the bill passed. However, forces collided with the true threat, the Dementors, who destroyed Liliford through the use of pawn Theodore Nott, and placed themselves to do the same in Granford, just waiting for somebody to kill Nott and unleash the dead man's switch leeching off of his life.

But the conflict between Harry and Draco proved too great for either of them to look beyond the other, with Draco's wife Astoria, an old friend of Harry's, being put directly in the middle and suffering for it. Astoria and Draco's deaths through unfortunate happenstance related to the latter's tendency to keep pet zombies in his manor pushed Harry into resigning from the Wizengamot, giving up on that game, telling off Robards for his passivity, and heading into Granford one final time with Ron in tow, to save the town from Nott, even if it killed him. And despite being incarcerated and being hit with the revelation that Ron had the Stigma, Harry was able to convince Aaron Fortess to ally with the wizards and do what had to be done, whatever the cost... but the duplicity of Juliet O'Flynn, Fortess's second-in-command, soon proved tragic.

Juliet had been a Ministry spy since the previous winter, and the frankness of the Ministry reports she had received from Robards's second-in-command Samuel Stark had not helped her temperament towards wizardkind one bit. It was because of this she did not heed Harry's warning about Nott, and when Fortess was threatened in front of her, she didn't hesitate in shooting and killing Nott, dooming the town to be devoured by the Dementors from the inside out. Now, Harry, his hands and legs bound, his friends behind bars, their wands absent, must fight for his life and for the lives of all those that can be saved in Granford... No matter the cost.

..::..-.-..::..

_Chapter Sixteen of Sixteen: Incident_

..::..-.-..::..

Mist poured out of Theodore Nott's body, and everyone began shouting at once.

"Why did you do _that?_ You foolish - you... you killed us all. I would've never asked for _that_ -"

"He just tried to kill you, they are _all_ trying to -"

"Potter, the cell! Now!"

"Harry, he's running!"

_"Harry!"_

The mist leaked out of the amulet first, suspended in the air just above the torrent of blood rushing out of Nott's throat where Juliet's bullet had struck. The amulet, spinning and spinning, glinting silver in the dim light, pulsated white, black, and white again. It flickered and flashed, only seconds passing that felt like minutes, and my eyes were drawn to small tendrils of snaking white mist, emerging from the amulet and weaving through the chain links. The wisps jumped off the chain and into Nott's blood, diving under and... The bloody pool began to recede, becoming shallower and shallower. The tendrils of mist started emerging from Nott's eye sockets, his mouth, his ears, his nose, and even the hole in his throat. His skin turned chalk-white instantly, and the amulet kept flashing -

They were sucking him dry. But the mist, the mist could've only been there if -

"They were breeding," I breathed out, and I could see my breath in front of me. The temperature of the room had dropped already, as it fully hit me that the Dementors were breeding in the souls they took from Liliford, _inside_ the amulet.

No wonder Nott had been so _insane_.

Something impacted on my chest, and I came into awareness again, tearing my eyes away from the mist swirling around the corpse. Beyond the corpse were steel bars. Yeah, they wouldn't keep them in at all. _Fuck_. I looked down at what had hit me: my wand holster, thrown by Fortess, who was scrambling to his feet, pushing away, away, from Nott's cell, from the mist and the Dementors -

"Harry!" Ron shouted from behind me.

I spurned my body into action, diving, on my magically-bound ankles, to the ground, my similarly-affected wrists smacking the concrete floor and sending jolts through my bones. The cut on my wrist screamed its protest as my fingers fumbled at the mechanism of my holster, and both my hands flinched away from the cloth at the rapport from Juliet's gun, bullets sailing over my head and in the direction of the mist. I swore to myself, fumbled for the mechanism again, pressing my fingers everywhere I could reach them in my scramble.

My wand clicked out, and I grasped for it. A tingle of familiar warmth, piercing through the steadily building cold, travelled down my wrists, and the bindings immediately dissolved. I stretched and turned my left wrist as my right flicked my wand to undo the ankle bindings, before I threw away the useless holster and took in the situation again.

Fortess was holding steady just in front of me, Juliet's rifle in his hands. Unlike her, he didn't seem to firing his weapon, but that might've been the fact his hands were shaking too erratically, frozen around the trigger but not pulling it. Juliet continued to fire into the mist, her expression frightened, beads of sweat running down her face and mingling with the tears from before. She pulled the trigger, again and again, until there was nothing _but_ the noise and the smell of exploding gunpowder.

"Harry!" Su Li called, and I turned away from Juliet. My hand, holding my wand, snapped up before I realised, and the doors of the three occupied jail cells all opened with screeching noises, drowned out by Juliet's gunfire. In the din I thought I heard another, distant yet similar, sound, but it was soon overshadowed by the sound coming from Juliet... or rather, the lack thereof.

Her gun clicked, empty of its bullets. Panic took over her features; pure, unadulterated, panic.

Then the chill swept into my bones. _That_ chill, the only chill. I couldn't describe it, not this close, not now. Screams and nightmares flooded in my head, the back of my neck tensing with this feeling, this depressing, soul-crushing feeling. _Sarah_, _Astoria_, _everybody_. I tried to push through it, and a part of me did, because I stepped back, noticing Fortess do the same; Nott's cell was fully swallowed in mist by now. The _mist_. White wisps of thick air, hanging high and low, bringing with it a feeling of dampness in every intake of breath, sucking all light from the room, drawing all source of positive energy towards it like a vacuum. Juliet, in her panic, didn't move.

A dark hand-shaped shadow reached out of the mist. I brought my wand to bear and -

Another hand broke through. A dark, oily. and scabby set of fingers, piercing the mist like a veil, a cloak of disguise. The fingers, skinny and skeletal like rotted bone, reached out, stretched taut in anticipation; the Dementor knew there was fresh food nearby. By the looks of things, so did its friends. More hands, more fingers, then the rest of them, whispers of dark cloaks, fleeting views of shadowy hoods. The mist moved as they moved, tendrils seeking out by feel, beings of their own kind -

I looked away, my neck snapping towards the others. Ron, Abe and Su were at my back, and I noticed that someone was missing.

"Meadowes ran," Ron explained shortly.

"Go," I ordered. "_Run_. Get him, get your wands, just _go!"_

Juliet's scream ripped through the air, and Fortess's rifle finally discharged.

Footsteps echoed behind me, and I took aim with my wand, pointed directly at the fray. The mist was covering the far end of the room, weaving out of the cells on that side, black hands and black cloaks glanced in the eerie haze. Juliet was pushing her hands in front of herself, the mist coming in under her feet, snaking up her legs and holding her in place as the hands, the _hands_, grasped for her arms. Fortess's bullets rattled into the mist, sailing harmlessly _through_ the creatures he couldn't even see. Juliet screamed again, and it began to die in her throat, the sound of water rushing into a recently unplugged sinkhole...

And the whole time, I couldn't find a happy memory.

Because what was there, that hadn't already been used and abused for other Patronuses? The Dementors had the effect of taking all the good and leaving only the bad, creating people built on despair and nothing else, making the best meal they could make. They'd always had a thing for me, and after losing Sarah, they had an easy time of taking the happy memories I needed to use against them and turning them against _me_. There was nothing, I was tapped out, I had nothing I could summon a Patronus with, because they all faded, they all -

Oh.

_"Sarah Fawcett."_

_"Harry Potter."_

The hospital wing. The day I met Sarah. I took Astoria along for a tour at St Mungo's.

I'd used this memory once before.

I always had it, but the feeling of happiness, of laughing with Astoria, seeing Ron and Hermione happy and whole, of having that first electric connection with Sarah... The memory had always been there, but the feeling had changed when I used it against the Dementors once before.

Other memories rushed back. Other feelings. I never lost them. I _never_ lost them.

And I shut my eyes and cried, _"Expecto Patronum!"_

The glare of my spell seared onto my eyelids, and I could see, and _feel_, dammit I could feel it, the Patronus form and shape, the body first, then the legs, the head, the horns. The stag, my father, my guardian, my protector. The beacon of light in the darkness, and it rushed forwards into the throng, into the Dementors and their mist, made up of a thousand screaming souls.

When I opened my eyes, the mist was still there. The dark shapes were still there. My Patronus had flickered into nothing, but it had been enough. I grasped for Fortess's shoulder, pulled him back forcefully, and turned to where Juliet had been standing -

Mist. Nothing else. Not one sign of her but a murmur in the air, joining the other consumed souls. Of Juliet O'Flynn, nothing.

But I, _I_ was still alive, and I had to move on and take Fortess with me because by the look on his face, he didn't want to do the same. _The town_, I told him mentally. _We have to protect the town. We have to get them out._

I navigated with my back, shuffling as fast as I could, until I hit solid metal instead of concrete. The bars of the cage leading out into the hall and from there, the front of the station; the doorway was open, and I saw the backs of my three friends, running towards the front, and it made me blink. How much time had passed in there, while I cast the Patronus? It had felt like...

I shook my head of it, hauling Fortess past the cage door and slamming it shut with a flick of my wand. Wouldn't do much, but dammit, worth the shot.

Fortess didn't need my assistance in the hall, and I let him lead the way back, my gaze never flicking back over my shoulder but the prickling feeling on the back of my neck and the pounding of my heart telling me that my Patronus hadn't slowed them down enough. Lights flickered out as we ran, not just the lightbulbs, but any and all light in my vision.

Up ahead, there was a great commotion, with the sound of a heavy weight hitting iron bars, followed by grunts of exclamation.

"Ron!" I called, outpacing Fortess to get there first.

We arrived in the pitch-black reception area, and when I lit my wand, I was able to spot a shape that could only be Lucas Meadowes slamming into the wall to the left of the front door. I shot off three consecutive Stunning Spells, but they went wide. Fortess, on the other hand, needed just the one shot. The momentum of his bullet took it through a sliver of the bars of the cage, across the room, and managing to catch the back of Meadowes's left leg as he turned the corner. Meadowes let out a cry, but the hurried sound that followed told us he still managed to get out through the front door.

"Shit," I hissed into the darkness, turning my wand into the rest of the cage. Ron was being hauled to his feet by Abe, his movements ginger; if I had to guess, pain gifted by tackling Meadowes against the reception cage. Su stood next to the desk, her eyes alert and weary. The only other person in the room was the svelte Muggle woman who manned the front desk every now and then. She was usually one of those permanently-frowning types, but the commotion had turned that frown into panicked fear.

"Sir," she said upon seeing Fortess. "What are we going to -"

"We need to alert the town," he replied.

"We need to get out of _here_," I said forcefully. I shooed them out before adding the implied, urgent, "_Now_."

Five of us, all but the receptionist, were on the other side of the cage when she spoke, "Why aren't we alerting the town?" she demanded. "The siren's back -"

"No," Fortess snapped. "We have to leave this area. The town hall. We have to go to the town hall -"

He was cut off by a swishing sound; of mist swirling on the floor, coming from the hallway leading to the cells. I didn't need to repeat the fact we had to run; we ran. Fortess slung the strap of the rifle - Juliet's rifle, a part of me remembered - over his shoulder, took one last look at his station, his workplace, filled with all the memories a place like Malfoy Manor would have for me, before leaving. Abe held open the door for everyone else in front of me - Fortess, Ron, Su - but where was the -

The receptionist had lagged behind in the cage too long. Directing my wand light, I made out no less than six shadowy, cloaked, figures pressing her against the far wall, covering her from all sides, and I turned away. The mist began to fill the reception cage, and worst of all, I spotted a more human-shaped shadow approaching in the haze, and she was approaching fast.

I pushed my way out of the station, leaving behind everything that happened in there, and followed the others out onto the night-cloaked street. The lightposts at both ends were flickering from bright white to dim orange, and under the light people were running back and forth, some towards the source of the noise, some away. The gunfire had alerted people, but the sight of us running away was pushing some back. Screams and cries lanced through the night. A few people began rushing towards Fortess, converging on their leader, but he gestured them away, as far away as they could go.

"To evacuate the town we have to call the siren," Fortess explained as we sprinted, footsteps pounding on the street and our breaths heavy with Dementor-induced fatigue. "From there we can alert the Tent Bridge, turn off all the town's power, and light the Two Flares. There are only two places we can do that from -"

"And one's mist," murmured Ron. "The town hall?"

"Everyone will converge there," I said. "Because in case of attack, if the attack was in the centre of town, people would bunker in, wait for it to pass. The others would escape to the filtering station on the north side."

I considered it. It wasn't good. We were on the eastern side of the centre of town, more north-east than south-east. The mist would spread out in a spiral pattern, and would take the filtering station soon... The Dementors themselves would be drawn to the Two Flares, just as the undead would, but this plan, Granford's emergency plan, _was_ for the undead, and not what they called mistfiends. Not what they tried to ignore lest the nightmares start again, just as we did. Bunkering down in town hall wouldn't work; the Dementors would park themselves outside, breed their mist, choke everyone to death... No, we had to get out. The entire town had to evacuate.

"Can't apparate, can't portkey!" Abe exclaimed. "How the hell are we going to get a thousand people out before those things take _everything_?"

A concussive force destroyed, shattered and obliterated, every window in the two buildings surrounding the police station at once. The roar of breaking glass was matched with the whooshing that followed, as shards, some big and sharp, some small and little more than grains of sand, exploded outwards with the force of a cannon. Those around the area began to scream and cry, and I saw two people drop to the ground with faces full of the projectile glass. A certain instinct made me step forward to them, but that instinct was hung, drawn and quartered by the mist, leaping out of the broken windows of the station and into the buildings on each side, spreading and spreading and spreading... Cloaked figures, dozens of them, poured out into the two-story old storehouse turned apartment complex to the right of the station, the horde converging onto the building, _devouring_ it.

"Quickly," I said. "We do it quickly."

Fortess's eyes filled with rage. "The armoury, my people, they -"

"They're dead." I spoke in a rushed, hollow tone. I was in battle now, and it had already begun to take over. "I'm sorry, but your guns wouldn't have done anything."

His steely gaze moved on mine. "Then we better focus on the rest of the town."

We started running again. I flicked my wand up into the air, creating flashes of bright white sparks, and all five of us screamed at passerbys to run _away_ from the mist, run with _us_, quickly quickly _quickly_. The roaring sound of more windows breaking, of entire buildings creaking under the strain of magical creatures on the hunt, was behind us, and the centre square, with the screams of scared people rushing together in a time of crisis, was ahead.

When I turned and shot off another Patronus in the direction of the station (_My first kiss with Sarah. The first we counted, after the awkward first, second and third tries. We were both giggling like idiots by the end of it.), _I spotted something else, illuminated by the trail of radiant light my stag left in its wake. Out of the mist, near the mist, running free from the mist, were human-shaped creatures. At first glance, and in this darkness, they _could_ be human, but watching one run out of the station's neighbouring flat complex and grasp for another person already running from the Dementors... The predatory instinct, the shadowy motion of one head sinking into another's neck. A zombie, eating its catch, but not the usual kind of zombie. These buggers were fast, strong, and _alive_. The Dementors could make them, carriers of their Stigma, by stripping away those they ate of everything but that instinct, and the bonuses of the zombie being alive showed. I'd encountered one of these once before, but now... Juliet had been turned into one, I remembered, and so would every other person fed upon by the Dementors tonight. More chaos in the night, the hissing and spitting, running and sprinting, the living dead.

I focused on running first. Making sure Su and Abe didn't lag behind. Making sure Ron was doing all right under the strain of his own Stigma, and then making sure I didn't fall behind at the reminder that my friend was just as dead as the zombies back there.

"Where would Lucas have gotten?" Ron asked me as the square got closer and closer. "We'll need our wands, dammit."

"Fortess hit him in the leg," I said. "He can't have gotten far... the Dementors might have already gotten him. Sorry."

He let out a exhale of frustrated air. "Fuck."

"I need to go check on Ellie and her family first," I said after a moment, letting Abe, Su and Fortess hear me too. "They have their own evacuation plan, but I need to make sure it gets down. Also, the Muggles Juliet put there might not want to let them go... Will I have time for it?"

"I'll be putting up the siren right away," Fortess declared. "There'll be a general announcement, a warning, the lights will go out, the Two Flares will be lit... You'll have minutes, and _not many_."

The group of Muggles ahead of us all stopped and dove behind barricades erected in the middle of the street. They were hodgepodge barriers, made up of old car parts, sandbags, and various other additions like barbed wire and oil drums. The Muggles, all of them armed with their guns, ducked behind these barricades to take the time to take aim at the incoming horde, but they didn't fire until all of us had cleared past them. The cacophony of gunfire hailed on the undead, and Fortess and I joined them for a few moments, Fortess emptying Juliet's rifle on an approaching trio, while I used my wand to drop the zombies one after another with a hail of conjured spikes. I just ignored the dropped jaws from the Muggles watching. The Statute of Secrecy can go bugger itself, right now.

"Harry!" Ron cried, tossing me something from the darkness. It jingled and jangled, a black silk bag, and I recognised it immediately; the gold I'd given Meadowes. "Must've run this way."

"That's good, Ron, but we have bigger -"

A scream tore through the night, and the victorious moan of a feasting zombie followed. I swore, and threw the bag at the approaching horde. My wand blurred in my hand, and the bag split open, over a hundred gold coins burst into the air. I pushed a wave of heat into them before they could hit the ground, and each coin propelled forward with that heated force, and when it struck the horde, it _struck_. Coins pierced through bodies with fleshy _thwack_ noises, through arms and chests and necks, taking blood and bones with them. One of the closer ones, once a pale balding dark-haired man, caught two coins on both of its eyes, burning straight through and creating empty holes for sockets. The zombie didn't seem to realise that it had been hit, at first, but it fell to the ground sure enough.

I didn't take down as many zombies as I would've liked, because these ones were _fast_, and while the Muggles helped thin the horde out, they were still overcome by the fear and the chaos, and many shots went wide as the soulless monsters dodged instinctively.

And worst of all, the Dementors, spreading out from the mist, were coming.

"Go!" Fortess shouted authoritatively, and the Muggles didn't need to be told twice, though they all stopped and looked as another Patronus (_Astoria and I, laughing. I didn't remember about what, but it felt _good_._) sailed out of my wand and into the distance.

I was completely out of breath by the time we got into the town square, which to my continual confusion, was round in shape, ringed by the oldest buildings in town, including the hall, the greengrocers, and the library. The area could fit the entire town if need be, and by the looks of it, it was nearly a third of the way there already. I tried to take it as a good sign, because the chances of _anyone_ escaping intact would be bad enough - look at what happened to Liliford - but... A thousand people might die tonight. The last thousand Muggle people. In the UK alone, that was a third of the entire population.

So not tonight. They wouldn't be dying tonight.

The swell of the crowd took us in as we pushed for the town hall. People began screaming for Fortess's name; they wanted to know what was going on, how bad was it, if they should be going now... Some people didn't even bother asking; they saw the look on their leader's face and bolted, some heading the way we came, even as others warned them against it. Chaos was rumbling through the night air, cold and still with a hint of the rains earlier coming back later on. Panic was rich and audible, and fighting against that great tidal wave, keeping my eyes focused on following Fortess, following Ron, following everyone else, felt impossible after the fatigue of casting those Patronuses. I wondered if at what point would it stop being an issue of having the memories, but having the will to unleash them in corporeal form.

Halfway through the panicked crowd, a strong grip grabbed my upper arm, and a giant of a man with blonde hair and bushy eyebrows appeared in my vision. "Harry," he murmured - it was Auror Strong, Ministry operative. "I just heard. Dementors?"

"Yeah," I replied, shrugging out of the grip. "Where are the others?" A thought struck me. "Did you see Meadowes?"

"I saw him run away, but nothing else," he replied. He frowned. "Limp away, more like."

"Right, okay, ignoring him, where are the other operatives? What's their orders in an attack like this?"

"Do what we can to help. Emergency powers to break the Statute, but it's our mess to clean. Two of ours are already on Tent Bridge, and they'll be there to make sure the flares don't go out. I've put half a dozen up north at the station, and they'll try their best to keep the others safe. The rest are scattered; haven't seen them - could've run, or are heading this way now. Could already be dead,"

"Who's going to alert the Ministry?" Su asked, sidling up beside me; funny, she had been in front of me before. The crowd was pushing and shifting us all.

"The disillusioned sentries just near the ward boundary," replied Strong. "But they'll only see from a distance. We need somebody to go and tell them the exact nature of -"

My injured arm exploded in pain again as somebody bumped into it, and I involuntarily closed my eyes. When I opened them, the three of us were being buried in people. Panicked men, women and even a few children crashed into us, a stampede breaking out as we got closer to the hall. The tide washed over Su, but she made slipping into it look natural enough that I wasn't worried. Auror Strong, a big man, was visible somewhere to my left, eyes darting from side to side to watch me come. The lights coming from the town hall were closer now, and I used the back of Ron's head to guide me there. I found Fortess and Abe there too, Abe's nose swelling a nasty purple colour from some incident in the crowd.

"Aaron!" a familiar voice cried, and Stanthorpe stepped into view on the front steps of town hall. Behind him, people were running back and forth, carrying their weapons and supplies. "Should we -"

"Yes!" Fortess and I shouted at once, and Stanthorpe nodded briskly.

"The siren!" he called out behind him. "Call the siren, alert the bridges! Shut down the power boards, all of them!" People bustled and cried and rushed away to comply, and Stanthorpe turned to us. "Where's... anyone?"

"Juliet's gone," said Fortess, with a bitter inflection in his voice. "Mistfiends, Stan. And they're turning people into zombies."

"Faster, meaner zombies," I confirmed. "Bit of magic in them, keep them alive on nothing but instinct. The usual ones are dead, but as far as I can tell, these ones can't be saved either."

"Magic," Stanthorpe said, shaking his head. "_Magic_."

Fortess murmured a curse to himself. "The fences. We can't turn off the fences." At our looks, he elaborated. "If the attack moved inside-out at an unstoppable rate, the plan was to shut down the fence, just in case. No reason to keep the zombies in, and we'd potentially set ourselves up for injury. But... the fence used to run on our generators."

I got it instantly. "But now it runs on magic, a ward of some kind that's supposed to replicate the effect."

"Could you disable it?"

"A ward that big, in the time we have? And just me? No."

"Magic?" Stanthorpe repeated. "The fence runs on _magic_ now?"

"Long story," Abe said with a wry frown.

And we didn't have the time to explain it. I said, "Okay, we can't afford to waste time. I need to get to Abe's pub, make sure everyone gets out all right."

"I'm coming," Ron said immediately.

"Same," grunted Abe.

"I'd come too," Su began, slipping out of the crowd, "but somebody has to stay and message you, just in case."

"Patronus message, Su?" I asked. "We can't do that if you don't have a wand -"

"She'll have mine," Auror Strong rumbled, placing a hand on her shoulder. His serious gaze met mine. "You have a way out of the town for the Ogdens?"

"Brooms, on the roof. Six of them."

"Then I'll take one, fly out with them, and report to the Ministry," he declared.

"Good, good." I turned to Fortess, who was talking with Stanthorpe in hushed tones. "We're going now. Make your announcement, get people moving towards the station or the bridges. If groups cross the Old Bridge, they won't be mistaken for zombies heading for the flares. Do _not_ lock yourselves down here. The Dementors will find a way in, or breed all around you. Understand?"

They nodded seriously. I sent one last look to Su, and she nodded back, twirling Strong's wand in her hands. More than well aware at how she could handle herself in a crisis - the St Mungo's lockdown having taught me - I left her, gathering the others and pushing back into the crowd.

..::..-.-..::..

All the lights went out before we got back to Abe's, and the whole of Granford was plunged into total darkness. In the process, I nearly lost my footing to a deep puddle in the middle of the alleyway, before Ron caught my upper arm and set me back to running again. My wand was our only source of light, making out shadows of the alleyways, guiding us over more puddles, past barricades and various other debris. A light wind had picked up, and the echoing cries of Granford in danger ruffled my hair and swept into my back, creeping up my spine. The effect was amplified by the inclusion of the town's warning siren, a klaxon sounding out from the top of town hall, a warbling, terrifying, sound, crackling with disuse. As it echoed, I took steady, deep, breaths in the darkness, pushing onwards down familiar shortcuts back to the pub. The alleys were abandoned; those that lived on this part of the town were already in the centre of town.

The streets were dark for only a few minutes. When we turned our heads, we spotted the Two Flares lighting up the night sky, two orange flames burning bright for all the town to see; for all the undead and the Dementors to be drawn to.

Fortess's announcement echoed out of a speaker system hooked up to every street; the speakers would be the last big of power to go out. "... evacuation plans are in effect. Travel lightly, move as fast as you can. Homes can be rebuilt, supplies regained. Lives can not. The undead and the mistfiends have infested the east side of town, starting from my police station and moving outwards. Those heading to the filtering station must move north along the west barrier fence, which _is_ active. Stick together, do not draw attention to yourselves. The flares are lit... I am here, for all of you. I will protect Granford until the end. All of you go, now. Repeat, an evacuation is in effect..."

He cut himself off after repeating the message three times, and the warbling siren stopped. The silence brought back that primal, instinctual, fear of the completely still darkness, but we were close enough to Abe's by then so I could focus on Ellie and her family. They were waiting for us, and I wouldn't let myself let them down. Not after everything.

Abe's was located on the south-eastern side of town, located in the middle of a street on a small plateau in between two inclines - heading upwards to the west side of town, and downwards on the east side. We emerged out of an alleyway to the stately building's right, and I immediately noticed the pinpricks of light through the windows, and since the rest of the town's power was gone, it would be candle light. Shadows moved in front of the light, one pacing nervously by the ground floor window to the right of the door. We approached carefully, not wanting to spook those inside. Last I heard, the recently deceased Juliet O'Flynn had locked the Ogdens and Hit-Wizard Strauss down to stop me from doing anything stupid. The shadows told me they hadn't moved, but they'd doubtlessly heard the announcement...

The door slammed open, and a shotgun-toting bald man shouted over his shoulder, "Yeah fuck you too! I heard 'im say to go, and I'm goin'!" He reeled in total shock upon seeing us, and I had my wand aimed at his throat before he could say a word. Beside me, Abe and Ron stepped forward menacingly, while Strong cracked his knuckles together. The man, who I thought to be named Matthews, paled. "Fuck."

"Move out of the way," I told him, before calling out, "Leeson! Are you in there?"

"Harry?" he called back. "What are you -" Brown haired and brown-coated, his left arm in a sling, Leeson himself appeared at the doorframe. "Harry, what's going on?"

"You heard the announcement, didn't you?" Abe grunted. "_Move_. I need to get my things." He pushed past the stupefied Muggle and walked into his pub like he owned the place, and his appearance was enough for Ellie to cry out in exclamation.

"Harry!"

Ron and I pushed into the pub too, leaving Matthews and Strong at the door, and Leeson following. Inside, all but one of the tables had been pushed to the sides of the room, and a dozen armed Muggles, ten men and two women, stood in various positions in the room, behind the bar, at the stairs, watching out the windows. Their hostages were sitting on the sole unharmed table just in front of the bar. There was Gladys, her features lined with awareness, but she appeared calm; Amaris, gritting her teeth and looking torn between being happy for my arrival or being her usual self about my arrival; Strauss, sharp eyes taking in our injuries, our sweat and heavily breathing selves; and Ellie, who jumped right out of her chair at the sight of me, rushing up and sweeping me into an impromptu hug. Her grip was tight around my chest, and I returned it briefly. Felt kinda nice.

"I'm fine," I assured her as we broke apart. "Really, I am. But none of us will be if we don't go, now." I turned to Leeson and the Muggles. "Mistfiends, zombies, you heard the announcement. Go to the bridges, now."

"Damn straight," Matthews muttered by the door, turning and heading out into the night. Several of the others made moves to follow, but others stayed put; one woman pointed her rifle at Ellie's back, and another man spoke up.

"We were told to stay put, no matter what happened," he protested. "Juliet -"

"Is dead," Abe growled, circling him to get behind his bar. "Saw her die. This here is Fortess's order. Evacuate. This group is no threat to you."

"And we're supposed to believe that _why_?" the man asked.

Abe nodded to himself, then to Ron, to Strauss, and then to me.

We all acted at once.

Strauss sprung up out of his chair, pushing the chair itself back and slightly to the side, catching the legs of the woman pointing the gun at Ellie. She fell, cursing, and Strauss jumped on her to secure her weapon. At the same time, Ron tackled the man protesting to Abe, who reached over the bar to grab his pistol and quickly turn it on the rest of the room. I slid Ellie to my side and pointed my wand at Leeson. "Juliet's dead," I told him. "Whatever she told you doesn't matter. Tell them to leave."

His lips quirked in a little grin. "Never any doubt." He hooked a thumb over his shoulder. "Get going, all of you. Abe, hand him back his gun, and Strauss, help her up, would you?"

The two older men complied, Abe very begrudgingly. The group trooped out of the pub after a tense moment, leaving us alone with Leeson.

"You too," I said, nodding to him. "The bridges are closer. Go there. Avoid the mist."

He shook his head. "But what about you? How are you going to get out, mate?"

"I'll be heading that way when I'm sure the rest of the town's left," I said. I tipped my head to Ellie, who had attached herself to my side. "First, I need to get this lot out of here. Strauss, you still have your wands?"

"We do, Harry," he replied.

"Good. Amaris, Gladys, the roof, remember? Brooms are in the trunk by the chimney. Get on, get going. Ellie, you're going too."

"Harry, I -"

"Wait, wait, wait," said Leeson, his gaze incredulous. _"Brooms?"_

"I don't really want to go over this," Ron said. "There's only so much a man can take before his death, but... Okay, Leeson? Magic is real. We can do things with magic, but we can't do everything."

"We can't save everybody, but we can save enough," I said, as much as it pained me.

And of course, Leeson reacted the way we all expected him to. _"Magic_? What the fuck are you guys -"

By the door, Auror Strong cried out, "Get back here! _Meadowes!"_

I left Ellie where she was and bolted out the door and onto the street. Strong pointed, and I followed his finger into the darkness down the street, to a lone figure limping under the pale moonlight. The figure froze on the spot as the light of my wand flashed his way, but he didn't stay frozen for long. He turned his wand up, and I barely had time to blink before a jet of blue light flew in our direction. I ducked instinctively, and when I ducked, everyone behind me ducked, Ellie crying out in surprise as the spell obliterated one of the pub's windows. The next spell impacted Strong's shoulder with a fleshy _thwack_, and a chunk of bloody flesh spat into the pub, eliciting another cry of surprise; Amaris this time, who I imagined had caught a face full of it. Strong fell to the ground as Meadowes began to approach us, spitting out spell after spell, blasting holes in the front of Abe's pub.

"Meadowes!" I called. "You don't have to do this!"

Another spell whizzed over my head in reply.

"To hell with you, Harry Potter!" Meadowes limped forward into the light, looking like he'd been beaten to hell and back by the night's events. I saw the bloody mess that was the right side of his neck. "If I'm going to die, I'm -" He shot off another spell, fizzing out before it could hit anything, and he swore. "I want my gold, you son of a -"

"Hey!" a voice called out.

A silver dart, an arrow made of light whizzing as fast as a bullet, collided with Meadowes's head. Blood spurted out of the back of his head in a spray, and the last look of surprise, indignant and disbelieving, was the last I saw of Meadowes's face before he dropped to the ground.

My eyes darted to the source of the spell; Leon Strauss, standing in the doorway, wand braced on top of his left forearm.

Ron stepped forward and said, "Lucky... He has our wands."

Abe murmured in agreement and followed him to the body, and after a second, Strauss and I went too. Lucas Meadowes was a still corpse, the only source of noise coming from the fluids leaking out of the hole clean through his head.

"One of my old students," said Strauss with disgust. "Not one of my better ones. Don't quite know what he had less of: morals or brains."

Ron nudged the corpse with his foot. "Lot less brains now."

"DMLE justice," I said quietly. "That was for Artemis Hart."

Strauss made a noise of agreement, turning away from the man's corpse. "I'll get the Ogden ladies ready."

Strauss walked back to the pub and I followed, leaving Abe and Ron to do what they needed to do, while I crouched down and did what I had to do. Auror Strong was missing a chunk of his shoulder, but the spell hadn't nicked anything vital. A quick patchwork Healing, and he would be good to go.

Leeson, who I'd forgotten about in the commotion with Meadowes, stood and watched as I worked, mouth gaping as skin reknit back together, and blood was siphoned into nothingness. "That's magic," he gasped.

"Yeah."

"It can do explode stuff and heal stuff."

"And a few things in between."

"Well..." He gestured with his injured arm. "You couldn't have used it for this?"

I smiled tiredly. "When we get out here, promise. You should go now, Leeson. Fortess and Stanthorpe have things handled in the square, and we'll be joining them soon. Get to the bridges."

"Guess I should..." He moved to leave, reaching into his jacket with his good arm and pulling out a little grey revolver. "Hey Harry? Good luck."

"You too," I said, and to his retreating back I added, "Watch for stray bullets."

His chuckle cut through the frigid night air, and he soon disappeared down the street, heading the way the other Muggles had.

I flipped Strong, him being unconscious this entire time, over on his stomach, to heal at his back. Red light shined over the wound like a second, transparent, skin, and the blood began to recede back into the hole, pushing back just enough for me to use the next spell, which would sew the skin back together seamlessly. He'd be in pain for a while, but would still be able to fly when I woke him. The red light of the healing spell was still doing its thing when a shadow fell across my patient.

"Where's the rest of your family, Ellie?" I asked without looking up.

"Packing," she replied. A bit of movement, and she was crouched down beside me. "I, uhh, never really unpacked."

I _hmm_'d, and said nothing else. When I eventually looked away from Strong's back, I saw Ellie sweeping her dark hair behind her head in a no-nonsense ponytail.

"I'm coming with you," she declared.

"You're not."

"I am."

I frowned at her. "Ellie, I'm about to go back into a warzone, okay? Dementors, zombies, panicked Muggles with guns running away from them. I can't -"

"Or won't? Harry, I need to come." She shook her head and bit her lip. "You understand, don't you? I can't just run away, not after everything."

"You can _live_," I said forcefully, then quieter, "You can live."

"And if I can save people here, tonight?" she asked. "I've put up with being hidden for this entire year. I know you never wanted us moved here, but I know that _I_ can't just abandon everything."

"And your mother, your grandmother? How about Tiberius, a friend of mine?" I stared at her intently; her eyes were bright in the darkness. "If you end up dead because you're not ready, what am I supposed to tell them?"

"You tell them I volunteered. Because I wanted to. Because you need all the help you can get, and..." She sighed. "Please. It's not... You trust Ron, and Abe, and Su, right? You trust them to watch your back?"

"Without a doubt. But they're not -"

"I didn't fight in the Battle of Hogwarts. I have never dealt with the undead personally. But even _you_ were new at _this_, all of this, once. You told me your story, remember? You told me how Sarah died, and how St Mungo's burned, and you said that required a certain level of trust. I'm calling that again, Harry. Trust _me_. I want to help."

My mind screamed, _No no no no. _Ellie was many things, but a veteran of combat was not one of them. People in these situations, untested, tended to lose themselves. The Dementors would not help that situation; how many trained, experienced, wizards had died to their happiness-sucking nature, again? I could understand her want, her need, to help, but I couldn't... Risk it. Risk her. I made a promise to her grandfather to keep her safe, but what I was about to go back to wouldn't be safe at all. Ellie wasn't a known quality in this, even if I did trust her, even if I did see her as a friend, even if the look in her eyes told me she had her mother's iron will, and might just keep it through a battle...

"I won't be a burden," she promised, but ultimately, I don't think that's what I was worried about.

"I lost Sarah," I said quietly. "I lost Astoria. I lost Hermione, Ron's dying _right now_, and there's a whole long list after them. I don't want to add you to the end of that, Ellie. At a certain point I need to tell people no, that they should just run away from me as far as they can."

"Even if those same people tell you that they volunteered, and that this is their fight too?" she challenged. "Harry..." She reached out with one of her hands, a soft, slight thing, pale in the night. I reached out with one of my own, grasping -

"She is not going _anywhere_ but away from here," a steely voice declared, and we both looked up to see Amaris Ogden standing in the doorway, wearing her best Sunday scowl in addition to Strong's blood from earlier. Mine and Ellie's hands flew apart as if we were electrocuted, and Amaris noticed. Her tone was softer, though not by much, as she addressed her daughter first, "Ellie, I am only trying to think for your best interests -"

"Harry!" Abe shouted from behind me, and my neck whipped around fast enough to hurt. I was on my feet instantly, my wand pointed at the street. The darkness hid them, but there was no mistaking the moans and groans in the air. The undead. The slow kind, by the looks of things... but not alone. A shadow ran out from the night, snarling in Abe and Ron's direction, the two of them standing in the middle of the street by Meadowes's body, having retrieved their wands. Abe whipped his through the air, and a dark green scythe of light clipped off the zombie's head. "Sorry, we're closed!"

Ron backed himself up, conjuring bluebell fireballs and rolling them along the ground to get a view of the approaching horde, some slow, some fast. The fast ones were gaining ground quickly enough to be worrying, though one caught one of Ron's fireballs and erupted in blue flame before Abe dispatched it. The corpse fell forward onto Meadowes's, creating a bizarre pyre that succeeded in, at least, illuminating the entire area.

I sprung into action, leaving Ellie and Amaris behind, and my wand whipped a burst of air to existence, slapping an approaching fast zombie into the ground, where my Piercing Curse was able to scramble its brains before it could stand back up.

"Strauss!" I heard Amaris call from behind me. "Strauss, get down here!"

Ignoring her, I made my way towards Meadowes's funeral pyre, which soon turned into a beacon for the horde. Ron and Abe were back-to-back and swatting the slower undead like flies while most of their attentions were on the fast zombies, their legs pounding towards the fresh meat with a ferocity that was foreign for the undead - no doubt because these guys weren't actually dead. I spotted the problem with their strategy of killing all of them immediately. If they focused on swatting the slow ones before they got to them, they'd be eaten by the faster ones. Similarly, focusing exclusively on the faster ones might yet allow a slower one to catch them unawares.

So I decided to prevent either scenario. The slower ones still had a bit to go, emerging from the east end of the street, and in one fell swoop, I could take care of enough of them before the fast ones truly became a problem. Ron swung his wand in an arc, the spell trailing behind it bludgeoning two heads at once, compressing them to messy pulp with pure force. He used the same spell pretty successfully against even more, but I could see him growing weary, and quickly; The Stigma was affecting him. Abe, on the other hand, used less conventional tactics, his spells lopping off the legs of those heading his way and creating a bunch of crawling zombies for the next batch to try and get through. He laid down some kind of spell that would shoot spikes out of the ground as the crawling zombies got close, absently taking care of those he missed.

I aimed my wand at one zombie man, a slow one, dragging his leg behind him in a limping gait, and used the heat from Meadowes's pyre to fuel my next spell. I got the attention of the slow ones by heading towards them, and even a few of the fast ones turned my way, their retreating backs getting shot down by Ron or Abe for their trouble. I gathered up a great deal of concentration, took in a deep breath... and unleashed it.

The zombie I aimed for exploded when the bolt of lightning struck him on the head, the shockwave ripping its skull in two and doing the same to the rest of the upper body, before the force just turned it into a blood splatter on the ground. While impressive in itself, the real use of the spell was sending a shockwave from the conjured bolt outwards, lances of lightning striking the slower undead surrounding the ground zero, and well, when the heat and the force I pumped into the spell struck a walking corpse, the results weren't pretty. Eyeballs exploded out of their heads, for one, and melted brains leaked out onto the ground through the empty, burnt, sockets.

It didn't kill all of them, but even I had to admit that was pretty impressive of me.

Strauss emerged from the pub then, and with him came more silver darts of light zipping through the air, four out of five striking their targets with expert precision. Abe and Ron cleaned up the straggling faster ones, and Abe's face was grave as he said, "There'll be more where they came from, and soon. They're moving out from the other side of town."

"And the Dementors can't be that far behind," I said, nodding sharply. "Okay, no more arguments. You two watch the street, especially the route we need to take back to the square." I gestured. "I'll send the Ogdens off."

Ron looked over my shoulder to Ellie, standing near Strong by the front of the pub. "Good luck with that."

I grimaced, and when I got back to her, I didn't meet her eyes. I muttered a spell to take Strong out of his unconsciousness, and Strauss helped me bring the big man to his feet.

"What happened?" he asked, voice slurring.

"Meadowes happened," I replied. "He's dead now, don't worry."

Strong cast his bushy eyebrowed gaze over my head and to the zombie corpses littering the street. "How long was I out, again?"

"Long enough," said Strauss. He nodded his head to me. "I can take them from here, Harry." Behind him, Amaris and Gladys were juggling the brooms retrieved from the roof. "You should move on before it gets worse out there."

I snorted. "How could it _possibly_ get worse -"

"Hey!" Ron shouted in the night. "More walkers coming our way!"

We did what we did best; there were only three of them, and while each told a story, the important bits were condensed down into blood and brains splattered on the street. By now, the pyre had gone out with the rest of Ron's bluebell flames, very familiar bluebell flames, and the street was dark and quiet again, a great breath inhaling before the next attack, which I had no intention of being around to see. Things would be worse in the centre of town, and I had to move quickly.

"So we -" I began, but I was cut off by the sound of another spell whizzing through the night, a bright yellow stream cutting through the night and audibly connecting with something fleshy. The zombie, a fast one by the looks of it, fought and fought until the lack of knee bones made it collapse to the ground, moaning up a storm of what I assumed were zombie curse words.

Ellie Ogden walked over to the handicapped zombie, and I followed. She looked directly at me as she pointed her wand at its head. It was over pretty quickly; Piercing Curse.

"Do you know what you just did, Ellie?" I asked steadily. "You just killed somebody. Somebody with a life, before this, and somebody that could have friends or family wondering where he is right now. You just took his life. He was alive; see how fast he ran for us? That's because the Dementors made him that, but he was still alive. You don't need Legilimency to know those things are just as long gone as the undead, but..." I stepped forward. "Look at him."

Slowly, she did, her head moving down, pausing for a moment, then back up to meet my eyes. Her own were unflinching, defiant, but there was _something_, a glint of... Her resolve wavered, just for a second. I saw it, because I was looking for it, because it's what I needed to see.

"Good," I said, placing a hand on her shoulder. "You're feeling it. We all do, but that just means you're a human being. But... if you want to help that badly, you need to focus that feeling. All of this cannot hit you in the middle of a battle, and with the Dementors around, it will _try_. Focus on how scared you are, or frustrated. Use it, and I'll have you with me, okay?"

She nodded. "I will."

"Good. Remember, aim for the head, it's _Expecto Patronum_, and stick close to me. Do everything I tell you to do, even if I ask you to run and leave me behind. It will hurt, but do it, understand?"

She nodded again, and I was assured that she not just understood, but _understood_.

When we returned to the pub's entrance, Strauss took one look at Ellie before walking back into the pub and placing the broom he got for her back inside. Amaris and Gladys watched him do so with frowns, but Gladys seemed to get it first. She walked over and hugged her granddaughter tight, and I heard her whisper, "Be safe, and be smart." They pulled apart, and Gladys patted Ellie on the cheek. "And come back alive."

Amaris's face turned ashen. "No," she said, shaking her head. "Not a chance. There is _no_ way I'm leaving her here in this fucking town to _die!"_ Her rage, burning red-hot on her face and in her voice, turned itself on me, and I felt like ducking to avoid the spitting magma. "You! You have no right to do this, no right -"

"It was her choice," I said.

"But she's only doing it _because_ of you!"

"Yeah I've noticed I have that effect on people."

Before Amaris could slap me, Gladys grabbed her arm. "Dear, you can't sway Ellie away from this anymore than I could sway you from anything when you were her age. I'm too old to fight, and Tiberius needs me, but I know the reason to stay. Because it's right, because there are lives at stake. We have the power to help the Muggles tonight, as we should've done from the start. Ellie realises that."

"Mum, I'll be all right," assured Ellie. "We'll be joining you soon. Just gotta get a few people out of town, protect them from the Dementors is all."

That assured her raging mother as much as a drop of water could quell Fiendfyre. "He is going to get you all killed," she accused. "Like Hart. Like your friend Terry."

Abe snorted and threw up his hands.

"What kind of person do you think I am?" I asked Amaris pointedly. "You think I use people, right, that I'm just a horrible person despite _everything_ I've done for you? Is that what you want? Proof that you're right, that your little arguments with me aren't just you being scared and having no other way to show it?" I reached into my inner jacket pocket, the magically expanded one, and pulled out the folds of my Invisibility Cloak. "How's this? Okay, I'll give this to Ellie. It's my fourth-most valuable possession, if I had to rank them. I want to have this cloak by the end of the night, and if Ellie has it, I'll be more compelled to save her so I can get my cloak. You get where I'm going with this? You think I'm the kind of person that'd care more about the tool than the person. And while you're right, I've had my moments, I'm not fucking around when the stakes are like this. Not now, not ever."

She said nothing.

"Look, I know you'll never admit it, but you're just worried. Ellie's made her decision, and trust me, I tried swaying her away before you even heard about it. Now, are we going to make this into such an issue that we waste time getting back to the centre of town, and put Ellie into more danger when we get there and the Dementors are attacking? Are we?"

"If she is harmed..." she began.

"She won't be," I finished. But no promises.

I got the feeling Amaris would never, ever, admit to being wrong about me, but she didn't try and stop her daughter. After a tense moment, she walked out into the street, swung her legs over her broom, and waited for the others to join her. Nobody moved, and, perhaps realising she was alone, she let out a sigh, swinging her legs off of the broom and laying it on the ground. She reached into her bag and pulled out something small and unseen in the darkness, before marching over to Abe and shoving it in his hands. She repeated the process with Ron, her daughter and finally me, and when I looked at the square-shaped object in my hands, I finally understood.

"Chocolate," I murmured, pocketing the wrapped bar. "Thanks."

Amaris nodded stiffly, hiked herself back on her broom, and promptly pretended that the moment hadn't occurred.

Gladys, wearing a bemused look, followed, patting me on the arm and sending a supporting smile my way as she did. Ellie watched them go but stayed by my side, while I shook Strauss and Strong's hands.

"You tell them _everything_," I said. "You tell them about the Dementors, about how we need the help as soon as possible. Even if the bill's already been shot down, Robards will act. You just need to prompt him. Tell him to bring every single last one of his Aurors, of those able to fight. They need to save Granford, tonight. I'll do all I can, and my friends will help, but..."

"We understand," rumbled Strong. "Shouldn't waste time."

"Keep them safe," I told Strauss, who returned the sentiment.

"You'll do great, Harry," he said. "Follow your instincts." He swung his leg over his broom. "I'll get them out all right, but first... I'll signal you, with sparks. I'll show you how far the mist has spread."

"Thank you," I told him, and after one more handshake, he stepped away and gestured a hand to the others. The four riders were about to kick off as I sidled up to Ellie, muttering, "Last chance to go with them."

She muttered back, "Better the undead horde and the Dementors than my mother."

"You'll have to be especially brilliant tonight. Don't let us down."

"I won't." A slight nervous smile flittered on her full lips. "Promise."

Abe stretched his neck side to side, taking one last look at his pub and home for the past year. "Potter, we're burning through our time."

An echoing moan was his reply, coming from the end of the street we weren't planning on going down. _Definitely_ not, anymore.

"Agreed," said Ron. "Very much agreed."

..::..-.-..::..

Strauss's signal had delivered bad news. The mist had swept up from the police station and taken the northeast side of town entirely, including the town's hospital, and the path to the filtering station on the northern end, the station having a set of pipes to evacuate straight out into the river from, would be getting swarmed by the Dementors by now. Strong had said there were five Ministry wizards helping the Muggles out there, but they would be overrun if they tried to make a stand, and if not by the Dementors, the undead would put in appearances and begin the feeding frenzy. All in all, it didn't bode well for the entirety of Granford, but there was still a chance that those converging on the town square were being evacuated right now, and the thought had the four of us running through the alleyways, just as empty, quiet, and eerie as earlier.

As we ran, I found myself beside Ron, examining his features on the starlight, looking through the shadows with my best Healer one-over. He was flushed, and pale, but with the expenditure of breath from the running. He wasn't tired from the earlier skirmish with the undead; he had dealt with more and used more to kill them and still stayed upright, so it wasn't that. Only one more thing would've given him this flush, this fever.

"It feels like it's calling to them," he said, answering my unasked question. "I don't feel good, mate, not at all. I'm barely... I'm barely running here."

"What do you mean, calling to them?"

"The Dementors," he bit out, looking pained. "The scab, on my arm, won't stop burning. Burning cold. And it just feels..."

"Like there's one nearby."

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I can still run, I can still fight. I'll watch your back to the end." He tipped his head towards Ellie, running up ahead behind Abe. "Hers too, so you don't have to worry so much."

"Thanks."

"S'no'problem."

We kept up our pace, and all I could think about was how much losing my best friend was going to hurt, especially after everything else. He wasn't perfect, but dammit, he was _Ron_. He was there when it counted; it's what was killing him in the first place.

"Any regrets?" I asked.

"Plenty," he replied. "Sitting in your compartment back on the train, ten years back? Wouldn't change that for the world, mate."

And there was nothing else to say after that; Ron didn't even look like he could say _anything_ without passing out, and with all his concentration only on running and keeping upright, he appeared a little less flushed and feverish.

We pressed on, and the dark alleyways of Granford pushed and pulled us, that feeling of a coming dread, sinking slowly in my stomach...

... and then I saw it.

_Mist_. Thick and thin, rolling and hovering, still and ever-shifting. Even from a distance it didn't look natural, and up close, it just radiated strangeness, an eerie sense of oozing wrongness, cold and oily. It didn't move with the wind, or dissipate over time. It would hang there and spread out as long as the Dementors wanted it to, as long as they took their food and bred with it and in it. Those poor souls weren't in the mist; they _were_ the mist, and in the short time I spent inside, I had felt that weight, of the potential lives not lived, snuffed out and sucked dry by the Dementors. It was not pleasant, to say the least.

But that wasn't the biggest problem. The mist in front of us was blocking the centre square, including the path to the town hall. The Dementors had parked themselves somewhere in the mist, and it wouldn't even take many of them to spread the mist as thick as this, and enough of them could still be roaming the streets of Granford, feeding on anything in their path.

"The town hall," said Ellie. "Has the mist...?"

"I can't tell," I said, my voice almost a whisper as if the Dementors wouldn't hear me otherwise.

"They could've gotten out already," Abe said. "If we send a message to Su, can find out. Preferably _before_ the Dementors notice us."

"Harry's not thinking that," Ron said, peering at me.

All eyes turned my way. "There could still be people in the hall."

"There's no way to know that, unless we..."

The mist swirled before us, wispy tendrils reaching forward to tickle at our feet. Ellie shivered first, and the rest of us followed suit. They were calling for us, the voices of the lost souls.

But then the mist parted in a subtle, understated way, and if I hadn't been staring into that iridescent white abyss looking for an solution to our problem, I would've never seen it; like a single leaf flipping over in the breeze, but it was enough to see. The mist was distorted by a light, bright and more solid than the mist itself, defined lines and a shape forming out in the haze. The shape was heading our way, and as it got closer I could see wings cutting a swath through the mist, and then the rest of the great eagle's body. It soared out of the mist completely and circled around our heads; it was a Patronus, and when it opened its beak, I knew whose it was.

"Harry," said Su's voice, issuing forth in a whisper. "There's mist everywhere. We were gathering up the last groups to head out when we... opened the doors, and... I drove them away, but they'll be back, and the mist is starting to leak in." The eagle's eyes met mine; they were as serious as Su's, and just as intense. "Since I know you'll come, come _now_."

The eagle tipped its head to me and took flight, disappearing into the cloudy night sky, leaving only a void of warmth, soon filled by the mist, _calling_ again.

"So we go in," I said, and nobody voiced protests. They knew the stakes, they knew what would be in there. It was almost suicide, unless... "It's a straight path from here to the hall. When it's in front of us, we'll know. Okay, okay." I took a deep breath and paced in front of the mist. "We walk in a line, and we stay within reaching distance. Ellie, I want you behind me, and you will be holding onto my arm, understand?" She nodded. Good. "When you walk in, you'll feel things, hear things, and... I can't describe it. Everything about it will scream wrongness, and your body will react. It will burn ice into your eyes, it will take all of your senses, your will. And if the Dementors stop what they're doing and pay attention to us, we're screwed. This is their territory. Passing through undetected? Gonna be nearly impossible."

"But we have to try," said Ron, crouched over with his hands on his knees. "How close should we be to each other?"

"Practically touching," I said seriously. "The mist will disorientate you, try to throw you off, but we walk in that straight line. Watch your sides, but _don't_ stray."

"Patronuses?" Abe grunted.

"In there it might draw attention to ourselves, even if we _can_ cast them... The Dementors will be on us right away, see four lone targets like that, and they'll pick us off one by one." But I remembered the reaction Su's Patronus had evoked. Subtle, but there. All things Dementor hated all things Patronus, the pure despair being burned by pure happiness. "We... have to go in, now. Ellie."

She reached forward and grabbed my upper arm with her left hand. Her touch sent a tingle down my spine, warm and foreign in this night, but pleasant. I looked down and saw the silver charm bracelet on her arm, my birthday present to her less than a week ago. It still radiated warmth from my spell, and for a second, it felt like the best thing in the world.

Then I stepped forward into the mist.

And by Merlin did my body immediately protest this action.

The mist was not pleasant, to say the least. Everything inside of it was white, and thick, and impossibly cold - not just in the usual sense, but the hair-raising, mind-numbing kind. _Get out_, the mist screamed, and my bones turned to glass. The warmth from Ellie's charm was quickly snuffed out.

I tried to speak, but when I did the mist reacted, diving into my open mouth, honing in on the entrance I gave. A tendril of the mist touched the tip of my teeth and sent violent chills down the rest of my jaw, and I shut my mouth so tight it hurt. The wisp of mist receded away from me and merged with the rest of it, and I tried to focus on walking for a few moments. Just walking, forward, one step, two steps. Ellie's hand was crushing my forearm. Ron's breathing was irregular. Abe's footsteps were laboured. We continued on through, the only sounds made by us; the mist was still, but carrying an air as if was waiting, just _waiting_ for us. Then I swallowed. Ice trickled down the back of my throat, and I felt its descent down my oesophagus. I wondered if I'd feel it all the way down, but I pushed the thought away.

One step, two steps... I looked up, I looked down, I looked left and right and every other direction, and there was only mist. I tried to judge how far we'd gone, tried to factor in how big of a loop the mist had already thrown us in, and wondered if we hadn't realised it yet. Three steps, four... The ground under my feet became cobblestone, I could feel it; we were the town square proper. Five steps, six steps, and we had to be _close_.

I risked opening my mouth again, but the mist barely stirred. "How many steps to the middle of the square?" I asked.

"A few more," Abe murmured back. Our voices were quiet, reverent and as contradictory as the mist; we tried to keep them still and calm, but they warbled out of us, in our fear.

I took a few more to mean four, and when I took them, I signalled the others to stop. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Ellie do the same, just in case Ron and Abe couldn't see me, which was likely. I let out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding, crouching down, and pointed my wand at the ground. The mist parted for the spell's light, an orange light, looking hot to touch but wouldn't be warm at all in the middle of this, burning an 'X' on the ground. Our midpoint. Couldn't be entirely sure, but it would have to do for now; we had no other option.

"Keep walking," I instructed the others hoarsely. When I stood back up, mist rolled off of me, feeling like a thousand people patting me on the back at once, and it made me shiver.

We did, going straight as straight could go. My eyes began to sting with the feel of cold water clinging to my lashes, and trying to blink it away only made it worse. _Forward is the only way to go_, I told myself. _Forward._

A dark shadow flashed on my periphery.

I'd been afraid of that.

When I looked, I saw that it was more human-shaped than any Dementor would look like. It wasn't floating or gliding for one thing, no, it was walking. Shuffling, dull moans muted by the mist, which hissed and swirled in reply, and the souls of those eaten grew less and less subdued.

"Guys," I said softly. "Zombie. On the right."

Ron muttered out an incantation, and the shadow dropped out of my view.

But another leapt out of the haze, and Ron went flying off of his feet.

We all reacted at once. I turned, Ellie jumped, Abe rushed forward. Red light and blue light and invisible force mixed in and struck the zombie, its arms and teeth lashing and gnashing in an attempt to get at Ron, but failing, held back by his forearm and all the will he had left. Our spells didn't kill the creature, however. It lost chunks of flesh out of its side from spell, was barely moved by the force of air striking it in the back of the head, via Ellie, and the blasting curse from Abe only whipped its ear clean off. Two of the next three spells went wide, but Ellie's was stronger this time, and it snapped the zombie's neck, giving Ron enough time to push it off, point his wand at it, and quickly splatter brains on the ground. I walked over to make sure he was unhurt, and Abe and I hauled him back to his feet and gave the quick one-over.

"M'fine," he muttered. "Just a scare."

And we were about to get a bigger one.

Worse than the undead, who were at home in this mist; they could smell and hear us out, their vision impeded but their instincts all they'd ever need, numb to the effects of the stew of souls, never feeling the weight of all of them pressing down. No, worse than the undead, who would converge to the mist and perfectly hunt inside. The Dementors had never been far from my mind, but the thought of them blared in the front of my mind now, and a cold trickle went down my back.

And worst of all, in helping Ron with Abe, Ellie's hand had slipped off my arm. When I looked up, looking dead straight where I thought I came from, she was gone.

I called out, "_Ellie!"_

"I'm here!" she shouted back.

That cold feeling in my... _everything_... didn't cease. The Dementors had been breeding, unawares of our presence. But we just interrupted them. Oh, fuck.

"Shit," I hissed. "We got turned around. We got _turned around_. Abe, Ron, did you -"

"I fell, Harry, I fell," Ron replied. "The zombie threw me to the right, and -"

"Ellie!" I called. "Walk towards my voice, and nothing else! If you can feel them coming, just -"

"I haven't moved," Abe said. "I was facing this same way the entire time. I'm facing straight. We go that way."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

A dark curtain whipped through the air, and my insides clenched -

- but it was only Ellie's ponytail, but the rest of her threatened to be swallowed in the mist; she was facing the wrong way, and there were dark shapes emerging in the distance, and worse even darker shapes, closer and closer, the mist hiding them until they were right on top of us.

"Ellie!" I shouted desperately. "Turn around!"

Her hair whipped again, and I saw her pale face, which melted in relief as she saw me.

"Harry..." Ron said warningly. "They're coming!"

"We should run," said Abe.

"No, wait. The Dementors are coming too, I can feel them." I sighed in relief as Ellie caught up with us. "Abe, keep facing the way we're going. The rest of us, go back to back. Patronuses. If it doesn't work, then we run. If it _does_ work, then we run."

I stepped around Abe, rooted in the spot with his eyes darting in all directions, and stood on his left side, my shoulder bumping his. Ellie pressed herself directly opposite me, and Ron opposite Abe, his shoulder bumping my other one. The four of us paused, for one long second, before raising our wands in unison.

My mind raced through the happy memories, the ones I thought I'd lost. I got smiles and laughs and nights spent in warm beds, but those weren't memories; they were ill-defined, feelings, fleeting and jumbled, the sum experiences of people, and they wouldn't fuel this. Something pure, something that wasn't like those other memories, filtered and misremembered. In a sea of souls, of vague feelings and experiences, something defined needed to come out in this Patronus.

I don't quite know how everything else realised it themselves, but the four of us all cried, _"Expecto Patronum!" _in unison (_I've won the Quidditch Cup, my third year, and I felt on top of the world._), and four glorious white bursts of light broke into the mist, flashing so brilliantly and brightly that it was impossible to look away, or shut my eyes. The icy feeling on my eyelashes, in my nostrils and in my ears, evaporated as my memory, my Patronus, took shape, and Prongs rode into the mist. Ron's terrier, Abe's goat, and Ellie's formless starburst, weak in her inexperience but not lacking on the fuel to power it, travelled in the directions they were facing. The mist shifted and turned like it had before, and while several shadows fled, more remained; the undead, unaffected by the spells.

But they certainly weren't unaffected by the next ones.

We took down maybe six of them before I alerted the others. "Run! Don't stop running! Abe, take the lead!"

Abe pushed himself away from us and began to run, and I grabbed ahold of Ellie's wrist to follow, Ron taking up the rear, still shooting spells into the mist behind him.

Miraculously, the trip felt short. I could feel the Dementors, via the prickling at the back of my neck, fade, circle around and try to come at our sides like a wave, but we were faster, and the fear of the Patronus kept them at bay just enough, just enough for there to be a bigger shadow lying in front of us, a defined shape as old as the town itself. Abe pounded up the steps to the town hall, and I let Ellie go on her own to scramble up to the door. Ron and I ran up them together, and waited a moment at the top of the third, out of four, steps, wands pointed back into the haze we ran through.

There was nothing... but it couldn't hurt to be sure. I traded a nod with Ron, and we both raised our wands again and unleashed our Patronuses (_My last day at Hogwarts, not the sad moment of longing for more, but the happy moment by the lake with Ron and Hermione, and a feeling of the future laid before me). _When I looked, Ron was pouring all of his effort into his own spell, using every good memory he had, even if they came with the taint of the bad, like the ones with Hermione, or Megan, or his family. Ron Weasley was slowly dying, but right now he was surviving on those memories, on that last thread.

Behind us, Abe banged on the double doors. "Fortess! It's Abe! Open this damn door now. We are here to save you!"

And Ellie joined in, pounding with her hand. "If somebody can hear us, you have to either open up... or step back!"

"I like her plan," I said, and Ron and I wheeled around and aimed our wands at the doors. "Step back. Don't destroy it, just push it. Run in immediately, don't let the mist -"

Hot breath spilled on the back of my neck, and I ducked just as everyone cried out. I didn't look, just kicked back, pushing the zombie - the sneaky fucking zombie - back as far as I could in my shock. My heart began to race as I turned, aimed my wand toward the shape, but it lunged forward, the fast sneaky fucking zombie, and I felt my leg give way to the force. The steps reached up to me the side of my head, but I held my hand out just in time to prevent hitting the edge of a concrete step. My ear burned, and my elbow begun to sting, but I would be in a lot worse pain if I didn't move, and move quickly, because that zombie was still close, and -

One of the doors cracked open by a sliver, and Abe quickly held onto it with a gnarled hand. "Now!"

I needed no more prompting, and by the sounds of the footsteps, neither did the others. I half-crawled backwards up the last step; a few hands grabbed at my arms to pull me forward, and I attempted to balance myself on my feet. The sound of a gun firing stung at my injured ear, and warm blood splashed on the back of my legs. I could feel Ellie at my side, supporting me, and I felt a rush of gratitude for her. We bolted inside, passing out of the mist and into the cavernous entrance room of the town hall, which didn't feel much warmer but still felt so much better than outside in that hell.

"Thank... thank you," I said, placing my hands on my knees and panting; that encounter had taken a bit out of me.

"You're welcome," Su said quietly, her head appearing in my vision. "Thanks for the rescue."

"Yeah, well, you're welcome too, but..." I laughed hollowly. "We still have to go _back_."

Aaron Fortess clasped a hand on my shoulder. "So it appears."

It was just then I noticed the room was filled with people, and every single one of them was looking at us. Four people, three of them practically strangers and one gruff old Abe to them, who walked through the mist and survived intact. The faces staring at us belonged to men, women and children, and they were frightened, angry, tear-streaked, blood-stained, weary, or smiling weakly and trying to feel relief that somebody else had made it... But most of them looked just lost.

"How many are there?" I asked.

"A hundred," said Stanthorpe, one of the ones who was smiling weakly. "Near enough. From all over. Picked up a dozen before we lost the east side of town."

I nodded in reply, keeping an eye on my friends as colour returned to their cheeks. Ellie reached into one of her jacket pockets with shaking hands, and pulled out the chocolate bar her mother had given her. She quickly unwrapped it and started eating, and that soon set off the others to do the same, getting what little comfort they could after exposure to the Dementors, preparing themselves for what was coming next. I found myself reaching in my pocket to grab my own, unwrapping it as Abe split half of his off to give to Su.

A gunshot suddenly rang into the air, sharp and crisp and echoing from somewhere nearby, and it made me flinch, the chocolate bar raised halfway to my mouth.

"Doc Schulz got bit when we lost the hospital," Stanthorpe said, shaking his head, and that was enough to explain the gunshot. "People started running back from the filtering station, and they went here... We were so busy trying to push them to the bridges the mist was able to sneak up on us."

"We barricaded the doors before it could get inside," said Fortess. "But I doubt that will truly save us."

Su's eyes gazed into mine. "Harry," she said aloud, but there was more in what she didn't. _What was the plan? _she was asking. _How are you going to get us out of this one? _

I gathered Stanthorpe, Su and Fortess and brought them closer to the doors with Ron, Ellie and Abe, leaving the hundred Muggles to watch us, whispering and muttering. I kept my voice low as we formed a circle of sorts, enough so I couldn't stretch my neck too far to see everyone's determined face.

"The back exits?" I asked.

Fortess shook his head; Juliet's rifle was still strapped around his shoulder, and it shook with him. "Mist."

"The roof?"

"The whole hall is covered. There's no underground passage, no way into any other buildings. Only way out is through that door."

"Harry burned a mark, in the middle of the square," said Ellie. "A midpoint. We could use that to turn toward the bridges..."

Fortess and Stanthorpe shared a look, and back to me. "I thought you were getting her and her family out," said Fortess.

"The rest are gone," I remarked. "I'm just sorry I don't have enough brooms for everyone here."

"It's no matter. Did you mark the square?"

"Yeah, I did, but the Dementors in the mist won't let me guide a hundred people out."

"Five of those people can cast Patronuses," Ron pointed out. "We put one wand per groups, manageable groups of twenty, and -"

"But what about the Ministry operatives?" asked Ellie. "They could be -"

"No, Strong had them at the station, or to the bridges," I said, it dawning on me that they might not've gotten out in time, but still could've stopped enough Dementors to allow hundreds to escape with their lives... I could only hope.

Ron nodded understandably. "Then one wand per group it is then?"

"No, can't just have one wand in the groups," I argued. "Not everybody can handle the mist, and the Dementors, on their own." Ellie looked ready to protest, but it wasn't just her I was worried about, and my tone was gentle as I said, "Ron's running on near empty, Ellie. And your Patronus isn't perfect, not yet."

"And we should be leading the groups," Stanthorpe said. "They don't know you guys, they don't know about magic. They won't just trust you're leading them proper, even with how scared they are." He nodded to Fortess. "They follow him."

"Yeah, you're right."

"Three groups, maybe," Abe grunted. "Me 'n Ron take the front. I seem to be the only one of us with a sense of direction, anyhow. Ron'll stay on the midpoint mark and guide the second group towards the tail end of the first."

"That will have to be the biggest one," Fortess decided. "I'll lead that one."

"And I'll be there to," said Su. "I'll meet up with Abe in the middle, and we take them out. Harry's got the rear. We set it up right, and he can take care of the second group too."

"I'll be with Ellie then, yeah," I said. "How should we split the groups?"

"Let me decide that," Fortess said. "Stan, you good with going with Ron and Abe?"

He shrugged. "As long as everyone wants to follow me."

"They will, Stan, trust me."

Stanthorpe almost looked abashed, and scratched his chin absently. "Then what's the plan when we get out of the square? The bridges?"

"Station's mist, fence is still up, only way out is the bridges," I said.

"But the bridges are rigged to explode, Harry."

"And the flares will be attracting _everything_," said Fortess.

Su nodded seriously. "Moths to a flame."

Fuck, they were right. Getting out of the mist was bad enough, leading a hundred panicked Muggles made things even harder. Five Patronuses. Potentially hundreds of Dementors, and the fricking undead wouldn't be put down so easily either. Looking around, I saw only a few guns in the hall. Not enough to spread in the groups and to stop the undead from being an issue, leaving the Dementors just for those capable of warding them off... All five of us.

"We need a distraction," I said.

It was Abe who spoke up first. "I have something for that. Back at the pub."

"We were _just_ there," said Ellie. "And the undead..."

"If you need a distraction, we're goin' back there," he said firmly. "I've got something for this. Something I was saving." He eyed me seriously. "Trust me, Potter, this will work."

"Okay then. Okay... so the groups still stand. We'll want them in lines of two or three, at most."

Fortess nodded his head. "I'll try to set up the armed on the outlying edges."

"Won't do anything against the mistfiends, will they?" asked Stanthorpe. "We can't even _see_ them..."

"There's still the walkers in there," said Ron. "Plenty of targets."

I nodded. "But if we need to get to the pub, we'll need a route back. We'll have to double back through the mist after we get the Muggles out -"

"No we won't," Su piped up. "If we're coming out of the west side of the square, there's an alleyway we can take back across to the street where Abe's is. Well... two alleyways, a quick detour in the primary school and we'll have to jump six fences and cross a roof."

We all just stared at her.

"I've been busy," she declared.

"Seems like," Fortess muttered.

There was no more time left to lose. The Dementors and the undead would be eating the town alive the longer we waited around. The Muggles would have to clear the bridges with all the ravenous undead and the monstrous Dementors on their tails, and even if they blew up the bridges, the Dementors would not be slowed down. They needed to be thrown off their trail, and if we made the big enough distraction, if whatever scheme Abe had cooked up would work, then they'd survive the night. They'd have enough time to get away.

So three wizards and two witches would be their saviours, where the rest of the wizarding world was not. A hundred lives on the line; I couldn't be responsible for the other nine hundred, but this group, right here, I could save. Time to put it all on the line, time to do what I tried to do best. _Save_.

"Get the groups ready," I instructed Fortess, popping the final bit of chocolate in my mouth and savouring the rush of warm sensations as it went down.

"I will." He paused before heading off, however, and he smiled at me honestly. "Thank you, Harry," he added sincerely. "And all of you." He tipped his heads to Ron, Abe, Su and Ellie in turn. "You volunteered to stay, to help. I owe you all."

They nodded in gratitude, and Ellie said, "We all have our parts to play, remember?"

He thanked us again, wordlessly, and Stanthorpe sent us a supporting smile before going to join Fortess in rallying the Muggles. I watched as the crowd converged on them, grabbing ahold of what meagre supplies, in backpacks or in hand as they did. Determination seeped over their faces as Fortess directed them into groups, picking out every individual by name, and compartmentalising them appropriately. It was decided that the first group would be those quicker on their feet, to get through as fast as possible, and Fortess assigned people with steady heads to watch over some of the shakier ones. The biggest group, his, the second, had the injured and unable, like the children, to be protected by the remnants of Fortess's best and brightest soldier types. The third group, mine, would have a mix of everyone else, and would be the smallest. The groups started to form together, and the hall was alight with people whispering, alternating between determined and scared. Fortess and Stanthorpe directed them, personally assuring the more scared people to not stop and stare at what would happen inside the mist, but to just run and keep steady heads. The key, they told them, was not to get lost, or stray, or panic. It would be optimistic to say only a dozen would panic, and I knew that not everybody would survive the trip.

However, there was a key difference between some people dying and all of them dying. I voiced my concern to the others, the five of us standing back from the action near the front doors. "The first group getting out unharmed will be a miracle," I said, leaning back on the hard wooden door, the handle pressing into my lower back. "The Dementors will definitely go for the second and the third. They'll be like a big herd of cows to those beasts."

"That's where we'll come in," said Ron. "Patronuses."

"Right. All of us make a path for the first group, and Ron and Abe will get them out. Ron goes back to the midpoint to help Su with the second group, which I'll be handling at the rear, while Ellie and I also take care of the third group..."

"Yeah, it's a good plan, mate."

"But if we all head out the mist one way, the Dementors will chase. The Muggles need to cross those bridges, and we need to get back to the pub." I looked at each of them seriously, at their various determined looks - Ron, tired and holding steady, Abe, disgruntled but wary, Su, sharply assessing, and Ellie, scared yet determined. "If we make the distraction big enough, we'll be a beacon. For the mist, for the undead... for the Dementors. All of you understand that this might be it, right?"

And of course they did. But they'd volunteered anyway. Me and my friends. Crazy bunch we are, but ultimately doing the right thing. Nobody else in the world I'd rather nearby right now.

So, fighting a proud smile off of my face, I continued, "The Muggles still need to get out, or this is for nothing. If we piss the Dementors off enough, they'll just follow, and risk our Patronuses to feed on the Muggles. The undead will go with, and they might risk blowing the bridges first. We need to get them out, but at the same time, we need to bring the wrath to us instead. Split off the horde as much as possible."

Ellie realised it first. "You want to draw them off."

"Just me, yeah."

Ron snorted. "Bullshit."

"Not this time Ron, not for this. The four of you will be exiting out of the mist on the west side of the square, where you can hold off long enough for the Muggles to run down the main street and to the bridges. You can then take the shortcuts Su described to catch up to the pub, where I'll be."

"So you'll go south?" Su asked.

"Throw as many Patronuses down their throats as I can, to draw them off. We'll meet up, and Abe, how long will this distraction of yours take?"

"Minutes," he replied. "You want a big bang, I'll need minutes."

"How will you draw them off?" Ellie asked, visibly worried.

"I'll switch to the rear of the third group after we get to the midpoint," I explained. "Guide you all out from behind, then I plan on running the second you're all out."

"Harry..." Ellie began.

"We still have to focus on the Muggles first," I told her, and our eyes met. Hers were sad, but in a pretty way. I softened mine. "I'll catch up at Abe's pub with the rest of you."

"I feel thanking you again wouldn't be enough, Harry Potter," Fortess's voice said from my side. I broke my gaze with Ellie and looked at him, and the hundred Muggles split into three groups behind him. "You'll forgive me if I wish to make sure all of my people get out? Stan will lead them to the bridges, and I'll take the rear."

I nodded. "I'll be happy to have you. Just one thing."

"What is it?"

"Don't hesitate. If you have to, once you've crossed them, blow the two bridges."

"Done," Fortess said. "Ron, Abe, ready? Group one will go right away, and group two will follow after twenty seconds. If you would all open the doors..."

We did, and the five of us pushed the mist back with simultaneous Patronuses. The stag (_Our team had just saved three men from a Maxilla Curse, and everyone was in Hunt's office, laughing at nothing.)_, the terrier, the goat, the eagle and the body of some large four-footed animal, Ellie's Patronus, not yet fully corporeal. The beautiful creatures, constructions of happiness to drive back the despair, spread out in a semicircle around us, forming a shield of light pushing outwards like a wave.

I nodded to Fortess, and he rallied the first group. "Stick behind Stanthorpe! Do not stray, stay steady! Guns, stay pointed away from us. Just follow everyone else. Ron and Aberforth will protect you, I promise. Be safe."

"What he said," I said to Ron and Abe. "Abe, keep Ron on his feet."

Abe grunted. "Will try."

"What he said," said Ron, grinning a little. He snapped off a salute and stepped out into the mist with Abe, both of them with their wands raised, looking for shadows. They shot off a few spells in one direction; an approaching walker, most like. My focus shifted from them and to moving out of the way of nearly thirty men and women and children, making up the first group.

"Luck, Harry," Stanthorpe muttered as he passed.

The group headed off into the mist, and we watched them go, every person simply fading, being swallowed up by the swirling, regurgitated, souls. The back of my throat was dry as the last of the group disappeared.

"Girls," I said, while Fortess walked around behind us, prepping the second group. "More Patronuses, now."

I begun to feel lightheaded after Prongs leapt from my wand yet again (_Ron, Hermione, Neville, Ginny, Luna and I playing that marathon game of Exploding Snap, my sixth year. That feeling I got looking at Ginny, the laughter at Neville's burnt eyebrows, and at the fact Luna managed to beat us all, every time.)_ but I tried not to let it show to the others. I couldn't have that many left in me, not after everything, but I still had to stay upright, for the sake of things bigger than me. Could've used a bit more chocolate, I suppose.

Fortess shook my hand before taking the second group out, holding Juliet's rifle as he ventured out. Su cast her Patronus two more times into the haze, while Ellie and I stepped in the doorframe to watch the group go and make sure the Dementors didn't try for their sides. We couldn't see anything, but that didn't mean...

"Harry," Ellie said suddenly. "I think the charm bracelet you gave me stopped working."

"Oh."

"Sorry."

"No big deal. I'll make you a new one when we get out of here."

She laughed in a forced way. "_When_. I'd like that."

Something made me ask, "And more?"

She said nothing, a slight smile playing at the corners of her lips.

I turned away from her and faced the group of over twenty people I was responsible for. My mind flashed back to the lockdown, and the twenty people I left behind to escape the burning hospital. The look on Sarah's face, the last look she wore that wasn't pure agony... I looked at Ellie again. She smiled, and while her smile faltered, she still tried. That was encouraging enough.

"Okay, we go quickly, and quietly," I told the group. "I know you're all scared, and tired, and so many other things, and all I want to ask is that you put your trust in the right place. Fortess trusts me to do this, and while he'll take you when we reach the middle, I've got you now. And I... I will lay down my life for all of yours. Know that."

I turned from them, and signalled Ellie. She cast her Patronus out, but I didn't; not now, I couldn't risk it. Ellie's was enough to shift the mist again, again subtle but there, and when it shifted, I ran forward. Two steps forward to leave the hall, two more to get to the top of the hall's steps, a quick jump to get down to the cobblestone square proper, and then the realisation hit that I was back in the mist. I couldn't afford to feel it, even if I _did_, and I took one look back at the group before picking up a pace, a jog quickly turning into a run.

It wasn't quiet, not like before, with everyone's footsteps bouncing along, and I felt an intense pressure building in my head. Like the mist didn't just want us anymore, wasn't just calling, but it _needed_ us, and it was going to take us. Goosebumps erupted on my skin, and things began to get darker; not like we were surrounded by shadows, but like the entire mist became darker, dimmer. The Dementors. Oh fuck, the Dementors.

I almost tripped on something fleshy and solid, but was able to avoid falling completely. When I looked down I saw a corpse, its face destroyed by a buckshot, and looking around in the dimming mist I could see more shadowy forms lying on the ground. More than we had taken down before, in our first trip. I couldn't tell if they were from the other groups, or if they were in the mist in the first place, but it was possible it was a mix of both... and more than possible that Dementors had snatched corpses away completely.

"Keep going," Ellie encouraged beside me. "Keep going. It's not far, just keep going." I couldn't be sure if she was talking to me, the group, or herself.

We did, and I just knew we getting close to the midpoint, but at the same time there was no way to be completely sure...

A woman cried out, and two guns went off.

Panic hit us first, and the shadows in the mist weren't far behind.

I turned away from the path ahead, and saw Ellie turn with me. A few of the group kept running ahead, pushing past us, but behind everyone we saw them coming. Not just one shadow, or two. Not even a shadow at all, a glimpse of something dark and insidious. This was a black cloud, and it was coming for us fast.

Moans and groans filled the air; the mist had hidden the undead, again, until they right on top of us. The two Muggles with guns, the only two with guns, began firing wildly, at the cloud, at the source of the moans, at everything at once, and screams tore through the air. Three Muggles, two men and a woman, were attacked by the faster zombies, and their painful sounds of struggling under the weight of teeth and claws were enough to draw the attention of the gun wielders, who turned, pointed their guns, and kept firing, until one's gun clicked, empty of its bullets, and it was too late for both of them. I pushed my own spells out on the swarm of zombies, nearly a dozen, coming from our right, and beside me, Ellie did the same, even as the screams of the dying Muggles and the hissing shrieks of the undead rang in our ears. The mist became dimmer and dimmer, until it was grey instead of white, the souls no longer screaming out with their weight, but hushed, reverent, paving the way for the icy cold of that black cloud, the Dementors.

_"Expecto Patronum!"_ I cried, trying to push the Patronus forward towards the cloud... but what came out of my wand wasn't anything but a formless burst, and I swore internally, digging deep for a happy memory, something big that I could use, _something_.

Ellie's Patronus rushed forward and lost itself in the cloud, which slowly began to grow less and less defined, a shadow to a shade, a shade to a fading memory...

"Harry!" Ellie screamed. "Harry, we have to -"

"Go!" I snapped back. Zombies were coming from all sides, and the Muggles at the back of the pack who'd been picked off first were starting to rise again. I swept my wand out in an arc and let a pure wave of force knock them back down, turned, and ran for it.

The mist threatened to lose my view of Ellie and the others several times, and although it felt like we'd run the entire length of the town, eventually, my burning orange 'X' in the ground became visible, and with it came the figure of Aaron Fortess, his rifle firing into the zombies running behind me. His aim was precise, and meticulous, and he made every shot count. He never fired if there was a chance of one of the fleeing Muggles getting in the way. He was a stony pillar of calm in the raging sea, and I shot him a grateful nod as I approached.

"I'll take it from here," I told him, looking ahead. Ellie was running to the west, good girl, and her Patronus cut a swath through the mist. The Muggles ran with her, as many as were still alive. "Quickly, before you lose them."

"I won't," he said. "I won't. Harry, see you on the other -"

A rustle of a black cloak, and Aaron Fortess vanished right in front of my eyes.

My insides seized in shock, my head began to pound. Shakily, I raised my right hand, my wand, and pointed it at the mist, swallowing everything but me all around my body. "Fortess?" I called. "Fortess?"

Whispers were my only reply.

The souls were telling me to go, but Fortess...

... appeared in front of me, close enough to see but far enough away to make it feel like a great chasm, of this haze, was all that there was in the world. I could make out his tall, stiff-backed, posture, the short blond hair, the stormy eyes...

"Fortess?"

A shadow appeared just below his ear, and an oily black hand, rotting and skeletal, cupped the side of his face. Then another, above him. And another, at his neck, clamping like a vice.

The Dementors spread out around him like a beastly shadow, and more hands grabbed everything, until I could only see his face, lined with age and experience.

They were taunting me.

And Fortess's lips moved, and formed two words.

My aim never felt truer; the Piercing Curse struck him just above the bridge of his nose. His eyes went glassy, and the black hands started to grasp for his mouth, those monsters trying to get their feed in, but they wouldn't, not from Fortess, not from him. I'd denied them of that. _He_ had denied them of that.

"You see that?" I called, screaming each word until my throat hurt, in my grief, in my rage. "You fuckers cannot take _everything_." I whipped my wand up towards them, and I reached for the memory _(The lunch Sarah and I had with Astoria, when she started in St Mungo's. That feeling I got when I realised I loved Sarah for the first time, right then and there_._)_, pushing it out into my next words. _"Expecto Patronum!"_

The shadowy creatures dropped the corpse of Aaron Fortess and fled as the ethereal stag bucked and gored. Officer Aaron Mackenzie, who lived and survived for Tess, his wife, for Granford, his town. The Dementors had taken him right in front of me, as they would take me. And they could, I knew that, but my Patronus brought the warmth back into my blood, and I called to it, "Go to Stanthorpe. Tell him Aaron Fortess went back into the mist to save who he could. Tell him to keep going. And to Ron, to Ellie, to Abe and Su, tell them I'll be at the pub."

Prongs nodded its head and glided up into the air.

The Dementors could take many things, but right now, I made sure they wouldn't take all the hope in the world. To everyone else, Fortess would be saving them, saving his town, a legend everlasting.

That was all there was to it.

I used the midpoint mark to orientate myself, and started to run.

Come and get me, Dementors. Come and get Harry Potter. Let me hear Sarah's screams, or see Astoria's corpse. Bring back every bad memory, every dark day, and I'll match them with the happy ones, the ones that make life worth living.

I ran forward. They were at my back the entire way, but at the same time, they were subdued, almost cowed. Maybe I'd thrown too many Patronuses at them, maybe they just wanted to play with their food a bit first. When I thought I was getting close, it felt like the mist started to shift and dance around me, throwing me off completely. While a logical part of me knew that it was always shifting, and never looked the same, for this moment it just felt different, like... like the Dementors were screwing with me. Of course. I shut my eyes and just continued to run; it may've felt like I moved, but it hadn't. The mist's last trick hadn't been good enough.

My eyes were open again when the tickling sensation of the mist stopped, and soft droplets of rain began dripping on my head. I looked around the familiar, dark, alleyway, half of it shrouded in mist, whereas earlier it hadn't been touched by the mist at all. I took one last look at it, just waiting for the Dementors to come out in force.

But they didn't, and I decided not to stick around. The alleyway stretched on before me, and I knew the path well enough by now. The rain felt almost good, cleansing and less cold than being inside the mist. I decided I liked the rain.

It turned out to be a brief shower, and by the time I turned the corner to Abe's pub, it had ceased. Rain no longer became the priority, however. The zombies in the street were.

There were, to put it very lightly, more than a few. I couldn't be entirely sure, but the groans I was hearing made it sound like there were a lot more shrouded in the darkness, and nearby too. Again, couldn't be entirely sure. In fact, I was pretty fucking unsure, as it happens.

My footsteps skidded on the wet asphalt, and all their heads turned my way. Their mouths dropped open; a zombie man with one eye dangling out of its socket, a zombie with no arms, one zombie woman with her hair torn bloodily off of her scalp. One of them had a shotgun strapped around its shoulder, its arms awkwardly trying to get around it as it headed towards me with an echoing moan. All but two were shuffling with arms outstretched, determined to get their meat. The other two? Running in between, one outright vaulting over the charred corpse of Lucas Meadowes. I stood my ground as they ran, raising my wand to -

One of them, the one who had jumped, flipped in the air, arms swirling like a windmill blade, legs flailing out of nothing. When it landed on the ground, just in front of me, I saw the top half of its head was missing, lying a metre away in the opposite direction. The other running zombie was dispatched by a beam of yellow light, slicing its face open and cutting right through where its nose was.

Ron Weasley, Ellie Ogden, Su Li and Aberforth Dumbledore all came up beside me, all looking a little worse for wear, but ultimately intact. Su's cheek was bleeding, Ron looked like he'd run a marathon, Abe's beard was singed, and Ellie's hair was plastered to her head from the rain, free of its ponytail.

"Nice night for it," Ron remarked, jabbing his wand forward and decapitating the armless zombie.

"Everyone get out okay?" I asked, Ellie and I both taking down an overweight zombie man at the same time, my spell slamming into its forehead, hers exploding a chunk out of it.

"Stan's got them," Abe replied. He was laying down a spike trap again, simply tripping the undead into falling face-first into the pointy ends.

"We drove the Dementors back," said Su, whose zombie-killing method seemed to favour conjured projectiles, floating around her head one moment like a graceful cloud, then speeding off to strike intended targets the next. "Got here as fast as we could."

"Are _you_ okay, Harry?" Ellie inquired, as she finished the job on the scalped zombie woman, clipping the entire top half of its head off.

I turned my wand on the shotgun-toting zombie, my spell grabbing the gun itself, turning the barrel down, and pulling the trigger. The zombie's foot exploded in a gory shower of blood and toes, and as it went down I directed the barrel at the zombie with impaired vision. The next shot went wide, but still managed to take the dangling eye all the way out, blasting it into nothing. One more pull, and his entire head was mincemeat. That had worked in distracting myself from Ellie's question, because I hadn't wanted to think about what had happened with Fortess, and the pain I felt because he'd never get to truly see his town be saved...

So I replied, "Better that you're all here, now."

The last zombie dropped dead with a sickening _squelch_.

Soon, we were in the pub, and Ron slammed the door shut. "So what is the distraction exactly?" he asked. "Abe?"

Abe rushed behind the bar, and leaned down out of sight. "Explosive."

I had figured it was something like that. "What kind?"

"Been brewing it since I got here, just in case. Didn't expect to have to blow my own pub, but... well, circumstances change." A hand emerged from under the bar, and it placed a ceramic jug on the counter.

Su went over and sniffed at it. "Smells like goats."

"Not to say I did this back at the Hog's Head," said Abe, emerging briefly to place another jug on the bar. "I actually had goats, back there." He almost sounded wistful, ducking out of view again.

"So what do you need to do? How will this work?" I asked.

"This is premium stuff, Potter," his voice replied. "You want something to draw their attention, you'll get it. This won't just blow up my pub. It will level my neighbours's places. It will unleash a great fireball, green and purple and red, into the air." He slammed under jug down on the bar. "Simply put? You will get your fucking distraction, and every walker and Dementor will see it and come running."

I smiled at that. "How long will you need?"

"Minutes, like I said before," he growled. "I need to add the catalysts, force the mixture out of its inert state. Set up a timer... Five minutes." He looked at the jugs again, six now, and back under the bar, where he probably had more. "Maybe seven."

"I don't think they'll give us that long," said Ron, peering out a window. "They're coming."

Abe threw up his hands. "Well unless you want me to blow us all up right now and save some time..."

"Defend the pub it is," Su said. "Lovely."

Abe tipped his head to her and dove back down under the bar, to whatever secret compartment he had under there.

The pub's layout was simple. A grand old place straight out of the 19th Century, the place was a museum piece, a bit of history caught and bottled. The bar was old but beautiful, a long sturdy bit of ebony wood running from the side of the staircases, on the left side of the room onwards, curving into the wall next to the backroom door. Tables and booths took up the rest of the space, the latter lining the walls and the former once spread out evenly, but now pressed and stacked on the booth tables from earlier. The tables gave us plenty of potential fortification tools, but first we had to focus on the door and windows. The door was on the left side of the room at the far wall, but three large windows sat next to it, not to mention two similar windows on both side walls not covered with the bar. The room was dark and unlit, but with a wave of my wand, the candles sitting on top of the shelves and on the bar were aflame, bathing the pub in a dim orange light. It would have to do for now.

I directed the others to the tables. "Against the windows, and the door," I instructed. "Somebody fix the window Meadowes broke earlier, too. After that, try to reinforce possible entry points with magic. Can't be sure their resistance won't overcome it somehow, or if that'll stop the Dementors, but..."

"Still have to try," Ron said. "Got it."

Behind us, Abe muttered and noisily rearranged the jugs on the bar.

A fist smacked up against the windows, then another, and another. The door began to rattle and shake. One of the windows was pounded on more emphatically by a quicker fist, and was soon joined by a second. The glass begun to crack. Howling, mournful, moans begun to fill the air.

The undead were here, and I cried, "Quickly!"

The first window, the middle of the front trio, shattered before we could press the tables against it, and two snarling zombie visages peered through the glass. Ellie and I took them down immediately, but four others wandered into view, vacant expressions that still spoke of hunger on their faces. All of us, except Abe, lined up in front of the bar to take our shots; I used the shards of glass still in the frame to impale them under the necks, glass shooting up through their brains. One zombie managed to climb over one of its fellow corpses and awkwardly rolled into the pub, but its trip was short-lived, of course.

More glass shattered from my right. "Su!" I alerted. "Take that side." She rushed to do so, turning on the spot and instantly decapitating the zombie trying to get in.

It continued like that for a minute - more and more tried to pour in through the front window, while a few stubbornly tried to break through the others and make a new entrance or two. A side window on the left broke, and I directed Ellie's attentions that way. The whole time, the door was being pounded and pounded on, damn near shaking off of its hinges. How many of those things were out there?

And... how the hell would we get out?

The thought distracted me, and I paid the price for it. Debris whipped forward as my misfired spell exploded at the wall, shattering the glass of the leftmost front window. Immediately, undead began pouring in, and I tired to keep them at bay. I hadn't reacted fast enough, so three managed to get into the pub proper, and when Ron took the moment to kill one, two stumbled over themselves to get in through the first shattered window. Ellie turned away for a second at the commotion, and another one got inside through the side windows.

Then the fire started.

The zombie Ron had dispatched, that of a short, pudgy, man with intestines trailing out of its stomach, fell at an awkward angle, a fleshy stump on its neck all that remained of the head. The zombie's arms flailed out and upturned two candles sitting on a nearby booth, and the wood erupted in flame, spreading onto the upturned tables immediately.

"Potter!" Abe shouted, and when I looked, I saw him busy with his wand, waving over each of the jugs in turn. "If that fire gets to these, we'll be dead!"

So of course, the tables on the entire right side of the room all caught aflame, a trail of fire soon beginning to head up the walls and out the broken windows; it broke the other one under the strain.

Su and I conjured up torrents of water and directed the hose towards the flames, but the undead soon made their presence known. I watched as a dozen tripped over themselves to get through the windows, a few even catching on fire on that side of the room. I killed those ones first, their corpses pitching forward onto the ground, and sending sparks at the varnished floor, but Su stopped more flames from erupting right away. That turned out to be the only good news; a loud crashing noise signalled that the front door had been battered down. Acrid smoke began to fill my nostrils. The flames turned a dim orange room into a raging red and yellow, and the cacophony of the undead, moaning and groaning and hissing and spitting, became unbearable.

"Backs to the bar!" I shouted to the others; Su, trying and failing to combat the fire; Ellie, being overrun by zombies pouring from the left side of the room; and Ron, a ring of corpses at his feet showing just how close they were getting, the fast ones and the slow ones both. I stepped backwards and shot down two of them with deadly precision. "Abe! How long do you need?"

"Still need minutes!" he snapped, temporarily stopping his work to stop another flaming zombie from getting close.

My back smacked against the ebony bar, and Ellie was the first to join me, her face ablaze with resolve, even as the tiredness began to visibly seep in. Su and Ron followed, and the entire bar was soon surrounded.

And I tried everything. Brute force replaced one zombie with another. Spike traps like Abe's were only so effective when these things would walk on impaled feet, and tripping them over in such close quarters wasn't viable. The smoke and the flames were making things harder, and the zombies catching on fire weren't being hindered by it in the slightest. Repelling charms wouldn't work, shield charms could only stop so much; there went the hope for defence for this. Couldn't apparate, couldn't make a portkey, the only nearby broom was Ellie's from earlier, and it was ashes by now. Abe was rushing to throw in some kind of herb into each of the jugs, and the contents, smelling of wet goat this close, began to bubble and hiss, purple, odourless, steam issuing off of the rim of each jug.

"Guys," I said, as yet another zombie fell and yet another took its place. "We don't have the minutes. On three, we make a final push. If that doesn't work..." The others didn't say anything. "One." I took a deep breath and turned my wand over in my fingers. "Two." Ron grunted a little battle cry, Ellie pressed herself as close to the bar as she could, and Su seemed to slip into a trance, just waiting for my signal. "Three."

Our wands moved as one, and invisible force lashed out. Mine, the biggest push, blasted every walker back a step and got them tripping over themselves backwards, and it gave enough time for the others' spells to connect. Ron's pulped eyeballs out of sockets, Ellie's cracked bones, necks and shoulders and knees, and Su's spell finished the job, a wave of silvery darts all spreading outwards, most colliding with foreheads or faces, others flying right over the shorter zombies, some striking necks or chests instead on the taller ones. More than a dozen corpses vaulted to the ground.

Fire roared against the right side of the wall, and a flame leapt out at the support pillar next to the bar. Abe swore, and three jets of water quickly stopped it from spreading to the ceramic, explosive, jugs.

By the time I looked back, the undead were rallying again. We'd slowed them down, but not enough. It hurt to realise just how many people had died tonight, to create this many zombies, attacking us in a wave... The room felt crowded, and the choking smoke only added to that claustrophobia. My spells were starting to come out in feeble smatterings of light, and my head began to feel light with exhaustion. I was done; I could just feel it. The others wouldn't be much better, I just knew.

"I think this is it," I announced.

"It's not," said Ron.

"What?"

He pointed.

The wooden staircase, to the left of the bar.

He pointed again.

The oncoming horde.

I rallied. "On three! One! Two! Th -"

Before I could finish, the four of us unleashed everything we had in formless bursts of magic, our wands directed at the staircase. For a second, nothing happened, and the moans of the undead felt mocking. But then the wood creaked and groaned, in protest at first, but when the supports gave out, it had no choice but to begin to fall, noisily at that, splinters of wood blasting off into our bodies and into the horde as it did. Ron and I used spells to push the falling staircase away from us and to the middle of the room. "Down!" I shouted as it fell, and everything vaulted to the ground. A green shield issued out of Su's wand, just as the staircase let out one final creak...

And everything went dark as it exploded into the floor.

When I opened my eyes, stinging in the smoke, I was looking at Ellie's back, and I reached forward and prodded. She groaned and rolled up to a sitting position, and I did the same. Ron made a similar noise beside me, but it was droned out by the sound of Abe swearing.

"Well I think that stopped most of them!" he called out, and spellfire whizzed above our heads, over the bar, over us, over the wreckage of stairs and wood just before us, and at the horde, looking noticeably more thinned out than earlier.

Su tossed a bloodstained splinter of wood at my feet, and she was holding her arm when I looked to her. "I'm fine," she assured, shakily standing up.

I followed suit, helping Ellie and letting her lean on my winded side, keeping our wands pointed at the dozen or so still-standing zombies left. I killed one on my second attempt, the first spell sailing right over its head and taking a chip out of the wall.

"Abe," I said, my throat dry as a desert. "Please tell me you're done now."

"Timer charm, and I am," he replied, before muttering an incantation under his breath.

It was just then I noticed that Ron hadn't stood back up with us, and when I looked down, he wasn't where he had been before.

His foot was sticking out of the wreckage just before us.

I left Ellie against the bar, and rushed toward the pile of wood and corpses. I pushed it all away with a sweep of my wand, and I leaned right over to check on him, absently registering something clatter onto the floor, I saw that he was still alive, breathing unsteadily through a swollen and bloody face. But he was still alive, if a bit more splintered than before, and I tried to pull him to his feet, at first using my shoulder to support him into a siting position, then pulling as hard as I could. He drifted back into consciousness, moaning groggily, and let me help, and soon we were both standing.

"Close one," I murmured. "Come on, back to the bar."

We were halfway back when Ellie shouted out in surprise, and she darted forward, wand raised at something behind us. I turned with Ron, and we saw the undead heading our way, hands raised, mouths open...

Ellie stood between them and us, pointed her wand at something on the ground and cried out, _"Accio!"_

A glint of gold flew into her outstretched hands, and I took Ron with me to see.

She pressed a familiar chain and ring in my hands, her eyes serious. "I know how much this means to you," she said, as I pocketed Sarah's ring again; it had fallen out sometime earlier, and I hadn't noticed...

"Thank you," I said sincerely. "Let's -"

A finger scratched at my cheek, and Ron was pulled away from me.

And he began to scream. Just like Sarah, just as loud and agonising.

I looked at him. Dark, rushing, blood spilled out of his neck and down his body. His eyes were wide and his jaw was wider, and blood bubbled from the back of his mouth in his agony as the zombie took a large chunk out of his neck. Another set of bloodstained teeth bit into the side of his chest, and a zombie rendered legless by the explosion earlier began grasping for his ankles.

I was the first to react, and Ellie, Su and Abe weren't far behind. The zombies weren't just blasted away, they were _obliterated_ by our spells. The one attacking Ron's chest crashed into the wall with nothing more than a torso to support its remaining arm. The legless zombie became a pulp on the ground, sloshing at Ron's feet. The zombie at his neck met my spell head-on, and its entire damn head buckled backwards in a shower of blood, leaving only a few teeth sticking out of the ruined and torn neck.

Ron collapsed to his knees.

"No!" I shouted, and rushed forward to catch him. "Ron, _no_."

His eyes were dazed, and one of his arms moved up to feel for his neck. Around us, I dimly registered Ellie, Su and Abe killing the remaining zombies. The flames were still roaring, spreading through the staircase wreckage to cover the entirety of the pub. "Fuck, this hurts," said Ron. He spat out a globule of blood, and his teeth were stained with it as he spoke next, painful and stilted. "Better... than the alternative. I was dead already."

I waved my wand; diagnostic charm first.

"Just leave it."

My first Healing spell didn't work.

"Harry..."

My second one faired no better.

I tried to save him, I tried to heal him. There was nothing I could do, but I tried anyway, because he was Ron dammit, my best friend, and I wouldn't... I tried to save him. I tried to heal him. I couldn't do anything, and I knew it. I've tried before, and I tried now, so many times. And it wouldn't work, it would never work. He was dead.

"M'sorry," he murmured, wincing in pain as more blood seeped out of his neck wound like a waterfall. "So sorry. After Astoria, after everything, I know this going to... hurt, Harry, but..."

"No," I said in denial. "No, mate, I can't." Frustration, pure anger and tiredness at the fact that everything had still led to _this_, as if it was always going to, leaked into my tone. "I can't save shit. After everything, I'm not... Fuck! _Fuck_. I can't. Save you. I'm sorry, but I can't. I just..."

"Then let somebody save _you_," Ron said with determination, fighting through his pain. The pub, aflame with hungry fire and the spent chaos, reflected in his eyes. "Let _me_ save you."

"Ron..."

"If I blow up with the pub, it will carry. The smell. Don't you remember what Stanthorpe said? The Two Flares have meat in them, and that helps attract the undead. Let the smell of me carry, let the explosion light up the night sky." He closed his eyes and smiled a painful smile. "Can't think of a better way to go. Hermione and Megan better get ready, because I'm coming." His eyes opened, and they implored mine. "Go."

The others began to shout as more undead poured into the flaming pub once more.

"Get going, Harry," Ron said, reaching out and pushing me away. He flipped his wand over in his hands, fumbling with it, and I caught it. "Take that. I won't be needing it where I'm going." He coughed out another mouthful of blood. "Abe?"

The older man tipped his head to him. "Yeah?"

Ron began to stand, pushing everything he had into it, even as his blood made a small lake on the floor. "They ready to blow?"

Abe nodded. "Guess you won't need the timer? Just drop a candle in 'em."

"Got it."

"And Weasley? Bottle of Firewhiskey under the bar. All yours."

"Thank you." Ron's gaze moved from his and to Su's, and they shared conspiratorial, silent, nods. He turned to Ellie next. "Take care of Harry, yeah?"

"I will," she said. "Good luck, Ron."

Ron swayed on the spot, and I caught his upper arm. He immediately pushed himself away and looked at me with all the seriousness in the world, because this was it, this was all that there was. "Go," he said. "Run, just run. Survive."

I shook his bloodstained hand, one last time, and pocketed his wand.

The pub roared and crackled under the flames, and Ron screamed at us, _"Run!"_

And we ran. We pushed over the flaming staircase wreckage, killed the zombies blocking our way by the door, and ran out into the night. Thunder rumbled in the clouds above us, drowned out by the roaring flames and the moans of the surviving undead. When I peered back through the open doorframe, I saw Ron sipping from a bottle of Firewhiskey with one hand, and holding a candle over one of the jugs with another. When the bottle let his lips, he let out a sigh of contentment, and closed his eyes one last time... The candle slipped from his hands.

My heart ran faster than I should've been. I turned away and caught up with the others, the faster of the zombies who had noticed us giving chase. I didn't look back, at them, at the pub, at Ron.

A fiery explosion tore through the night sky, and all of us stopped and looked then. A great fireball had obliterated Abe's pub and the two buildings on either side, sweeping upwards in a miasma of flaming purples and greens, with a core of blazing orange, red and yellow. The fireball consumed the very foundations of the three buildings, erupting upwards and outwards, taking itself as high as it could get into the night sky, embers of flame reaching up higher than I would've thought possible. The smell of ashes and burnt flesh violated my nostrils, and my ears started to rumble and pop. A shockwave of force spat from the epicentre, tearing up the asphalt off of the street, lashing out like bullets and taking parts of the surrounding undead clean off, a particularly sharp bit of shrapnel decapitating a spiky-haired zombie, his head flying off into the makeshift flare. The fireball swallowed the head whole, just like the pub and the two surrounding buildings, just like Ron Weasley.

The shockwave of it washed over me, and bits of shrapnel bounced into my chest. Abe grunted in sudden pain, and all of us saw the knife-sized chunk sticking out of his knee.

"Su!" I said, as we both rushed for him.

He began to wave us off. "I'll live, we have to go now!"

Ellie's face was fearful as she said, "He's right. If the Dementors come from the centre square to this, they'll be coming from the way we need to go."

"She's right," I exclaimed. "Su, do you have a route?"

She pointed down the street. "We'll come out on the main street." She took Abe under the shoulder and shifted under his weight. "I'll get him."

We needed no more prompting.

Granford pushed us the rest of the way, through the chaotic night air, under the thunder and the dense feeling of coming rain. The great flare Ron made with his death had made illuminated the sky enough to show us the way, and it was a hauntingly beautiful sight, much larger and more powerful than the two pinpricks on the Tent Bridge on the south side of town. It was two pinpricks we ran towards, down alleyways and side streets, guided by Su's uncanny sense of the layout of every corner and shortcut. There was mist at our sides and at our backs in some places, and the cold feeling told us the Dementors were never far behind; they had been absent earlier, perhaps rallying around the rest of the town before coming for us, and it made me more than thankful... until now. The cold swept up over us, to Ellie and I running with all we had left, with Abe and Su trailing behind as the former half-limped and swore. That feeling of time running out, of the town itself telling us to go, that it would sacrifice itself for us, was enough. I heard Fortess's voice urging me onwards, not for the sake of Granford, but for us. We saved all we could of the town, and it was now trying to repay the favour.

Spurning onwards, we sprinted over puddles and bodies and past flaming houses, misty streets, barricades and scattered supplies dropped in the rush. The undead all limped or ran by us, and I only took down those closest, those who could've ended our lives. One particularly fast one almost tackled me at the side, but I was able to push it away with an elbow to the face, and drill my spell into its forehead, squashing it against the ground like an insect. Squashy squash.

_Run, survive_, I told myself, preventing Ellie from tripping over. I took everything, every encouragement I'd ever gotten, and pressed forward with the weight of Sarah's ring, never given, Astoria's note, the one she'd never know if I got or not, and Ron's wand, the wood warm and familiar in my pocket. _You can do it Harry, _I told myself, over and over.

We emerged on the main street, the road stretching upwards towards the elevated side of town, with roads leading off into the main square, from there leading to everything else. This road was filled with even more corpses, scattered through the barricades. Some of them were milling about, and when some more spotted us, they started sprinting, matching our pace with their own. The road led down, down towards the main entrance, where I could see the two bridges, still standing, the Two Flares burning brightly on the left bridge.

My breath began to appear in front of my face, and icy memories played in my head, all of them at once and none more frightening or terrible than the others. The Dementors had come from the main square, and we coming to intercept us from behind, the undead leading the charge directly in front of them.

The bridges were close, dammit, but Abe was still being half-dragged by Su, and Ellie looked ready to drop...

I spotted something near the sandbag barricades. Something that would do the trick. I flicked my wand and oil leaked out of the placed drum, soon pouring out all over the road, slick as it made a trail from one end of the road to the other. I leapt over it to avoid slipping, and Ellie did too. She landed awkwardly, but righted herself and began to run again... until she noticed I had stopped.

"Abe, Su, come on!" I shouted desperately.

"Harry, what are you doing?" Ellie asked.

"Giving you time, all of you," I replied. Su and Abe hopped over the oil, the undead beating down at their backs and the black cloud of Dementors not far behind. "You have to run to the bridges, now."

"Harry -"

"Now!" I whipped my wand around in a circle, and a ring of embers formed in front of me, so close the licks burned the tip of my fingers. I directed them down in a slashing motion, and they hopped right onto the oil. A blazing wall of orange flame appeared in front of my vision, and through the flames I could see the coming hell.

And Ellie Ogden reached up, grabbed me by the side of my head, and kissed me on the lips. It was hurried, but filled with warm passion, and by the time I had it in me to reply, just by instinct, she'd already broken away, her eyes filled with tears. "I'll see you," she said, and I nodded to her.

"Go," I said softly, and repeated the same to Su and Abe. They nodded back, but didn't hesitate like Ellie did. They ran for it, Abe in great amounts of visible pain but going anyway. Ellie shot me one last look of encouragement before running and never looking back.

I took two steps backwards, away from the blazing wall, and reached into _the_ pocket with my left hand. I clasped Sarah's ring, felt Astoria's note, and pulled Ron's wand out. I played with the wood in my fingers for a second, and decided to aim it alongside mine, both hands pointed at the flames, which began to flicker and flash as the Dementors got nearer...

And I found a memory, one I'd used weeks ago. Sarah and I, eating breakfast after a thirty-six hour shift at St Mungo's, one that had driven us 'round the bend with the workload, making us giddy enough to bet each other on who would fall asleep first. We were laughing and joking one moment over our breakfasts, before she let out a big yawn, leaned back in her seat... and instantly fell asleep. I'd laughed to myself, and for a moment laughed even more as she vaulted forwards into her breakfast, snoozing into her pancakes. Just another little moment, of laughter and happiness, or the sheer warmth I felt just by being around her.

For Sarah. For Astoria. For Ron. For Terry Boot, Artemis Hart, Grey Gale, Isaac Aquilla, even Draco fucking Malfoy. For Fortess. For Sarah, for Astoria. For Ellie, Su and Abe. For Granford, and the fate of the entire world on my shoulders, I unleashed every miniscule part of will and feeling I had.

_"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"_

White light poured in front of me, a stream, a burst, a flash, everything and anything, beautiful and bright. The Patronus formed into my stag, my father's Animagus form who had been there to protect me this entire time, through cold and despair, and happiness and warmth overtook every sense, blinding and numbing me to everything else. I felt it drain out of me, the force I put into the spell, everything I had left. If I fell here, I would be content. I've done as much as I could. Maybe I was meant to die to save those last three lives: Ellie, Su, Abe.

The light washed over me, and fought back the darkness.

But I didn't fall.

I. Didn't. Fall.

Behind me, I could hear Ellie screaming for me to run, and my legs replied. They turned me away, my arms dropping limp at my sides, both wands clutched in my hands like lifelines. I felt the breath of the Dementors and the undead and the night following me as I pounded one footstep after another, down the road, the last road, the only road, until the bridges were right before me. The others were crossing the Old Bridge; the Tent Bridge in great disarray in the haste of abandoning it, and I followed, the rickety old bridge groaning in protest as I did.

I ran, and ran, and ran. The destination was dark and fuzzy, the things I could see out the corner of my eye darker and fuzzier, but there were people at the end of the bridge, lots of them, waiting for me to cross.

The bridge began to rumble and shake underneath my feet, and I slipped momentarily.

A sharp whine filled my ears, before -

- my body started ringing, right into my very bones. I pushed myself onwards, urging and urging, as the familiar smell of something burning filled my nostrils. The bridge exploded under my feet, and its sister bridge did the same at my side, but I kept running, and running, and...

The Old Bridge creaked one last time as I leapt off of it. My body turned, and a bright orange flare burned at my eyes -

I felt myself fall to the ground.

I felt darkness creep into the corner of my vision.

I felt something sticking out of my chest, and blood pour out onto the ground around me, until I was lying in a puddle of it.

Things got fuzzy after that.

Blinking, I saw Ellie and Su were at my side, crouched and their wands shaking over my form.

"Can you save -"

"I have to concentrate, I couldn't -"

"Can you save him?"

Su's wand flashed white, and a groan escaped my lips. Stars appeared in my mind, flashing and twinkling at me, and there was this feeling of something being _pulled_ -

And I screamed in pain, my back curling me upwards towards the feeling, and my arms reached out to scratch and tear at the pain, to stop it -

"Harry!" Ellie cried. "Harry, stay down -" Her surprisingly strong grip pushed me back down; maybe it wasn't strong, I was just feeling weak. "Su..."

Su shushed her. "He's bleeding out, he's dying. But I..." A spurt of blood - _my_ blood? - splashed on her chest. She took in a deep breath. "Okay, okay."

I groaned.

"I've been practising since Neville, Harry," she assured me. "I can do this."

And Su waved her wand again, a great white light sweeping out and catching me in the chest...

I let her heal me. I let her save me. I ignored the pain, the lightheadedness, the darkness sweeping over my eyes, the pins and needles in my arms and legs. Ellie's hand crushed mine, and I focused only on that.

My heartbeat began to slow.

Su's wand flashed again.

My flesh seared, and no sound escaped me this time; I didn't have it left in me.

When I blinked again, Su's eyes were visibly relieved, though strained, and she was waving her wand over my chest, over and over. "He... He's going to be okay," she told Ellie, and herself.

I was, I could feel it. I was going to be okay.

I looked past Su and Ellie, to the great chasm that had appeared in the destruction of Granford's two bridges. I dimly registered the ruined town, the mist, and... the Dementors hovering over the chasm, black cloaks whipping through the ashes. I cried out wordlessly through the haze...

And what sounded like a thousand voices cried out in reply, _"Expecto Patronum!"_

The great wave of warmth washed over my skin, and I screwed my eyes shut tightly, but the light still managed to blind me...

When I came back into it, I still felt warm. Ellie was holding my hand, I noticed, and I looked at it. "Still works," I muttered, nodding imperceptibly to the bracelet around her wrist.

She nearly burst into tears. "We're okay," she said. "We survived."

"Hunt would be proud," commented Su, sighing tiredly.

Abe appeared in my view next, holding his injured leg and looking disgruntled. "I want my pub back," he grunted to me.

"I'll... I'll get you a new one," I promised. To Su, I said, "Thank you."

"It's not just me you should thank," she replied, and she looked to my side and above me.

I followed her gaze, and saw a group of people standing in a line, their wands spilling out ethereal white light, driving the Dementors back and back, with their pain and their bane. I recognised many of those in the group, and the warmth I felt was more powerful and soothing than a thousand Patronuses. Neville Longbottom, Susan Bones, Bill Weasley, and Ernie MacMillan, fighting at the dark with the light.

"Get him up and moving!" another, harsher, voice snapped behind me. "I am _not_ dying for him!"

I don't think I'll ever be happier to see Auror Proudfoot again.

He walked forward with the rest of my old scavenging team; Kingsley Shacklebolt, Leon Strauss, and Lara Wilkinson, the four of them unleashing their Patronuses to keep the Dementors at bay.

One more wand joined the fray, and it belonged to a bear of a man with broad shoulders, a thick face, and wearing old Auror robes; Minister Gawain Robards.

He nodded in agreement with Proudfoot's comment, and tossed a gold coin to Su. "Portkey to Hogsmeade," he said. "Will be activating with the others in ten seconds." He raised his voice and cried, "We're going! Prepare yourselves now! One last Patronus, and we leave!"

Su grabbed my arm, Ellie held on tighter, and Abe reached down to clasp at Su's shoulder. The four of us were jerked away by the portkey momentarily, my battered body protesting the action loudly, the sick feeling in my navel matched by every other feeling of the night - my pounding head, my injured arms and ears, my tired legs, the wound in my chest from the shrapnel... Then there was the grief, the anger, the sadness... It all added up, and despite the fact I wanted nothing more than to just go to sleep right now, the portkey trip kept me conscious, in pain, but aware.

The ground beneath me became drier - no puddle of blood here - and softer, grass instead of road. The blades tickled at my ears and the back of my neck. The night sky above me was starry and clear. It felt so much brighter, and warmer, around here than back in Granford. It made me sigh in relief, which sent lances of pain through my chest.

I dimly registered the action around me. People were running about, more people were crying out into the night, in shock or pain, and when Robards appeared, he quickly rallied a bunch of Aurors to him, including Kingsley and his team. "You have to head back," he declared. "We have to rescue those who evacuated out into the mountains. Now, we -"

"Harry!" I heard, and Stanthorpe of all people walked forward, no worse for wear by the night. "You made it."

"'lo Stan," I said thickly. "How many got out?"

"Hundreds," he replied, his tone grave yet a sense of relief, an undercurrent of happiness, despite all of it. His eyes travelled to the Aurors, and to the surroundings - Hogsmeade, bustling in activity, an area set up just on the outskirts of town for the wounded, tents erected in the night. Behind him I could see familiar faces, both wizards and Muggle, darting about - including Leeson, stretching his magically-healed arm and grinning at it.

"You want to go save more?" Robards asked Stanthorpe. "The Muggles who escaped through the filtering station still need to be rounded up, before the Dementors get to them. They won't trust us right away. They'll need a leader to step forward, and now."

Stanthorpe looked flabbergasted at that. "I'm not a leader, Minister. I'm not."

"Bullshit," I croaked. "Stan, now's not the time to be modest. You led them all out of the mist. Fortess is lost, and Juliet and Warren were never... they were never gonna be _true_ leaders." My chest protested all the talking, and Ellie squeezed my hand tighter, while Su started casting healing spells. "Step up, Stan. For the future. For Granford."

Robards nodded seriously. "Are you going to do it or aren't you?"

And slowly, realisation alight in his eyes, Stanthorpe began to nod.

"The right thing to do," I murmured. "Good..."

"Go with Kingsley; he has the Portkey," said the Minister for Magic. "And Stanthorpe? Thank you." When Stan had left with Kingsley and the others, the Minister turned to me. "You as well, Harry. You saved a lot of lives tonight."

"So did you," I replied. "Did the bill... did it pass?"

It was Neville who replied, crouching down in my vision with Susan at his side. They were both beaming, and holding hands. "Nine votes for, four votes against. We had the majority. The bill passed, Harry. The Wizengamot did it."

A palpable sense of relief swept through me. I didn't need to know who voted for what, or the whys behind it. All of that work, playing that game, had paid off. The Ministry had come to save the Muggles, in the end, and that was all that mattered.

But something struck me. "Wait, thirteen?" I asked. "The evenstall...?"

"You can thank the Minister for that one," said Susan. "Sir?"

Robards nodded resolutely. "I used the notes you gave me. They indicated a possible breach in the agreements made with a former Death Eater, and even on suspicion, I could have him arrested, and his seat stripped from him. So I did, just before the vote."

"Who?"

"Christian Selwyn." His expression turned vaguely amused, almost conspiratorial. "The notes indicated he was responsible for the disappearance of one Archie Forscythe, and had been housing him for the last few months. He needed to be questioned for it, and I took care of it... That his loss not only broke the evenstall, but meant one less vote against this perfectly legal disclosure bill that allowed me to act tonight... Well, pure coincidence."

Laughing made my chest hurt, but I did it anyway. "You did the right thing, Minister."

"Somebody has to look to the future, Harry Potter," he said, and my respect for him went up.

But there was one more thing. "Can I get a favour?" I asked.

"What is it?"

"Fire Stark."

"I'll assume there's a good reason."

"Just do it, please."

That made him chuckle. "Get some rest. I won't be. Work to do, and we can handle it. So let us, all right?" He tipped his head, turned, and walked away into the night, directing people immediately, a true leader doing what was for the best.

"He's right," said Neville. "Mate, stay put. We'll take care of it."

Susan nodded in agreement, and she added, "Take care."

"Healer's orders," said Su, as Neville and Susan walked away together. "Speaking of, I'd best find somebody to treat you that's not about to pass out. You're not out of the woods yet."

Abe snorted. "I'd best find one as well, then a drink. And a place to build me new pub."

He too walked off in the night, Su trailing after him before heading in the opposite direction.

Ellie said nothing, and just squeezed my hand again.

"I think I'll listen to them," I murmured to her. "Just might go to sleep now, for a bit..."

And before the darkness overtook me, I heard them all call my name, the ones I'd lost for this moment right now, for this blissful silence, having saved all I could... The morning would come, and there'd be mornings after, and there'd be other fights; this world was built for them, right now, but it was the future that was worth looking forward to, to see if the human race could truly survive, and prosper.

The human race, the wizards and the Muggles. All there was left, the best of us and the worst of us. We could still die, or we could yet survive.

I'll just have to find out.

..::..-.-..::..

_Epilogue: Incoming_

..::..-.-..::..

Weeks passed, and before long, The Burrows was fighting in the winter.

Today was a surprisingly sunny day, the air chilled with the season, but the rays of light played on everyone's skin, keeping them warm enough to be sweating after a hard day of work. I had been out there most of the day, helping with my hands, even as my chest niggled at me, an afterecho of the pain to go with the scar, gifted by a piece of shrapnel that night in Granford, after the bridges, the Dementors, Ron's death, Fortess's death, the mist, the undead... After everything, I still felt my chest itch and tingle. Just another scar with the rest of them.

We were building and expanding on The Burrows today, as we had for many days before. The Muggles that had survived Granford had mostly relocated to the area; it was wide, the farmlands expansive and usable, and the community of wizards were still rebuilding from their loss, and friendships and families were forged from the aftermath. There were some Muggles living in Hogsmeade, of course, because they had every reason to be up there as well. The purebloods had kicked up a fuss, and still were despite the various arrests made in the days after Malfoy's plots and plans hit the _Daily Prophet_. Their little episodes had been expected, but Robards was handling it, and doing a damn fine job while doing so. I stepped back and let him, focusing on the rebuilding process instead.

I guess you could call it my long overdue time off, and while I worked hard with everyone else, it was rewarding and fulfilling. I also got to spend time with what little friends I had left, not to mention Teddy, my godson, who was happier and happier to have his godfather around on a regular basis. He had been out al day too, helping where he could with a child's enthusiasm, and although his attentions darted away more than once, I was just happy to watch him run and laugh, oblivious to it all.

The hard work of the day came from a suggestion of Stanthorpe's, something Bill had agreed with. While we could conjure up a block of houses for the Muggles within a day, in the spirit of cooperation, we wouldn't. We needed to let the Muggles ingrain themselves, and since they wanted to build their houses by hand, we volunteered to help. A hundred wizards and witches put their wands away, some bemusedly swinging hammers and some others being more of a hindrance than a help, but I suppose it was the thought that counted. Luckily, I was on hand to heal any injuries gifted by minor mishaps, even as tired as it made me feel to do so.

The scar on my chest itched the entire day throughout the work.

Recovery hadn't been difficult, but it had required me to stay bedridden for a while. Bill had put me up in his house so I could be near Teddy and friends, and I got updates from Neville and Susan, holding hands and looking all the happier for it every time, on how the rest of society was handling the transition. They were working hard for the DMLE, and the Wizengamot was still in use, despite the recent shakeups and the reduced member rate. I had other visitors, too: Ernie, who had put his experiences in Granford to good use and was Stanthorpe's go-to wizard; Abe, who had built his new pub in Hogsmeade; and Su, who was busy integrating some Muggle medicines into our own.

The Ogdens moved to The Burrows too, with Tiberius's retirement giving him the time with his wife, daughter and granddaughter that he'd craved. I liked having Ellie around too. She visited every day, and we were getting closer. Some time from now she might show up in my bed naked again, and I don't think I'd refuse her if she did.

So here I was. When the work of the day was done, and the sky was darkening in the late afternoon, I found myself sitting underneath the great sentinel tree, on the hill overlooking the surrounding areas, from The Burrows to Sarah's family's cottage. The hill would always be my spot, to think about things had gone, to have momentary regret, to wish for something brighter.

I added four new stones up here, to go with the others. Fortess's was the biggest, the sturdiest, and I'd carved his name into it for that was the significant characteristic that defined him; For Tess. Terry's was an eagle, great and proud. Ron's was a broomstick, but out of all of them, his didn't feel like enough; I half-buried his wand next to the stone, just as I placed Sarah's ring on its chain around hers, and Astoria's note next to hers. Astoria Greengrass's stone wasn't carved, but it was coloured light blue, the same as her eyes. It was all I could think of for her.

"I have to go now," I said to myself, to the stones, to the soft wind. "Things to do. There's always things to do. Dinner tonight, with the Ogdens and the Weasleys, and Teddy and Andromeda. Amaris is cooking, so I'll be sure to check for poison before I end up here with all of you..." I chuckled hollowly. "Sorry. Sorry. For... everything. I got to here, now, because all of you died, but I wish... I wish it hadn't been this way. I'll never stop wishing for that, either, even though I know I'm just being thickheaded, and a self-sacrificing git. So no more apologies, I suppose." I tapped each stone in turn: Astoria, Sarah, Ron, Hermione, Luna, my parents, Sirius, Cedric, Remus and Tonks, the Weasleys - Molly, Arthur, Fred, Percy and Charlie - Terry, and Fortess. "Goodbye."

I walked away from the tree, letting the breeze blow through my hair, my foosteps floating on the grass. It was going to rain later, I could feel it. I picked up my pace, jogging up and down hills, even though my scars grunted in protest and my mind clouded with doubts and fears. I pushed through anyway; those thoughts stayed on the memorial hill. The future was what I had to look to now, and the people I lost would be who I lived for, because although they'd never see it, this was the future they had died for. A future where Muggles and wizards would coexist, and rebuild, and fight off the Dementors once and for all, prevent them from ever repeating their trick with Nott that was the death of Liliford and Granford. The undead would come next, or maybe we'd just find that cure and reverse the process entirely. Doubtful, but I could afford to dream now.

Night fell as the trail led me all the way back to The Burrows, the outskirts home to a variety of tents sitting next to unfinished houses. In the middle of town I could see a great bonfire, and people were laughing and eating their dinner in front of it. I would join them later, but first I ventured into a green cloth tent, just on the boundary of the ward line.

The inside wasn't magically expanded, so the space was cramped with the equipment, shiny and metallic on tables and benches; the equipment ran on its own generator, and we kept it away from the wards to prevent magical interference. A few chairs were scattered about, and mugs, which earlier had held hot chocolate, sat on a table in the middle of the tent, next to the biggest support pole.

One of the chairs was occupied by Stanthorpe, and when I entered he turned away from fiddling with the radio equipment. "Hey Harry," he said.

I returned the greeting, amused. "Got bored of leadership already?"

"Just doing my part in the downtime. Somebody has to man the radios, somebody has to be listening... Might as well be me. I find it soothing."

I nodded. "You want me to get you something to eat, or are you going to put in an appearance later?"

"I'll show up, don't worry. You've got a dinner planned anyway, right? With Ellie and her family?"

"Yeah, I do. Should probably head off before Ellie -"

One of the radios crackled.

"Incoming transmission," said Stanthorpe, and he rushed to press buttons and fiddle with dials. I went forward and reached for the microphone, next to a set of speakers. Stanthorpe turned a dial, and words tumbled out of the speakers, every other word crackling and popping with static.

But the message was there.

"Hello? We're... broadcasting on every frequency. We need somebody to listen, and now." It was a man's voice, desperate and reedy through the static. "There are sixty of us here, locked down with the undead at our door. They're finally coming and we need... We need help. Can anybody hear this? I repeat, we are broadcasting..."

"How do I...?" I asked, and Stanthorpe pointed to the microphone. He pressed a button as I leaned forward.

My words were clear, and I poured everything into them.

"My name is Harry Potter. We have safe havens from the undead, and have nearly three thousand people in our settlements. We can help you, we _will_ help you. Tell us where you are, and we'll come immediately. There is still hope, understand? We'll be there." I waited a moment, and murmured quietly, more to myself than anybody else in the world right now, "There's still hope."

..::..-.-..::..

_The End._

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_Post-Story Notes ::_

Well, that was Incorruptible. While the epilogue might feel a little extraneous to some, I kept it to highlight that the ending was bittersweet, and how bitter or how sweet and which is more present I'll leave up to all of you to decide. The story's done now, and it was, ultimately, a very satisfying writing experience. I had my ups and downs, and the finished product has the same, but it was the longest thing I'd ever written, it was the most complex, it was the most emotive and character-intensive and action-crazy and politics-drenched... That I wrote it all down in two months, after planning so much and pushing myself to actually write it, is a great accomplishment to me, and like I said before, despite the ups and downs, I'll never not love this story.

But enough about me. I really hope all of you enjoyed it, or even if you didn't like it as a whole, that there were moments that will stick with you or inspire or just strike you as plain ol' good fic fun. Either way. It's been commented to me that I haven't gotten all that much in the way of reviews, and I have to say that nah, that's not true. I'm forever grateful for the ones I have, and to those that add this story to alerts, to their favourites list, to their communities, or even just read it and never prove that they are. You're all awesome, just so you know, and, again, cheers.

Before I go, however, I feel I should let you all into the ideas I'm having for future projects. I've always got plots up my sleeve, and you might be seeing some stories sooner rather than later depending on how I go with balancing writing with everything else life throws at me. One idea I've had is relevant to fans of Incorruptible because it's basically me saying, "What if?" and wanting to explore the same setting I've made from the Harry Potter world, but in a different way.

The current plan is for two stories that are essentially alternate retellings of Incorruptible. AUs of AUs, roads not taken, what ifs, et cetera. And while the foundations remain the same, so much so that I wouldn't have released one of the AUs early because it would've spoiled a plot twist or two for Incorruptible, I won't be repeating what I've written here. For one, no huge politics storyline (Rejoice!). But Dementors, zombies, Healer Harry, and the various character foundations I've set up here can be used for these AUs (Though of course when I write them I'll assume the reader has no knowledge of Incorruptible, so you'll get refreshers in some basics), which will have different plots and ideas, all based on one point splitting off on the AU. So, allow me to announce:

The Dementor's Stigma: Ashes will be the first AU, and it will start all the way back at the end of the St Mungo's lockdown. After Sarah's death, Harry has his kneejerk reaction and accidentally hits Neville with it, and in Ashes, Neville is killed. The act has instant repercussions that kickstart a devilishly dark and grim plotline spread over a fic that's probably just a little shorter than this one, and yeah, shit gets crazy real fast. Harry will have to fight some seriously dark demons, including the guilt over Neville's accidental death and all that comes with, and the themes I want to get into the nitty-gritty of here are about the desperation of people when circumstances collapse in on them.

The Dementor's Stigma: Warmth is the second AU, and unless I plan to make more and more or do some kind of oneshot system that might make everyone sick of the world, will cap off The Dementor's Stigma world in a fic mostly centred on rebuilding things after the battles are done. The AU point is again the St Mungo's lockdown, but this time both Sarah and Neville survive, and the backbone of the alternate year with Sarah being alive sets up the main drive of Warmth's plot, which will also feature the struggles Harry and Sarah as they decide whether or not they can truly make it as a couple in this new world, or if the events of the lockdown have broken them forever. With this one I intend to flesh Sarah out a lot, and highlight if and/or how she'll be ultimately what Harry needs, and if Harry should try with her or just surrender to circumstances that occur, with deadly results. Keeping Sarah alive is a fundamental character change for Harry that I'm interested in exploring in the midst of a crisis while rebuilding, and so I'm looking forward to this one as a solid way to cap off the trilogy.

So yeah, that's what I'm working on. Vocal interest in either idea would be encouraging, although I suppose those sceptical of the concepts presented might have to wait and see what I produce when Ashes is released. The plan is for Ashes to come out and then Warmth, but I'm pretty changeable and might drum up some other stories to fill in the gaps, ones that may not even have zombies or Dementors in them, if you can believe that. But I've kinda got my hooks into the ideas and concepts of this setting I've created, and I want to keep writing in it, so yeah, that's probably where I'll end up.

Anyway, enough rambling. Thanks for reading the story, and if you've read this far in the author's note, thanks for that as well. Not much else to say from me, so I'll let you all take over now. If something changes I'll be sure to update my profile here, or post on DLP, but... well, yeah. Guess that's that.

Cheers,

Matt Silver.

_- Final Wizengamot Scorecard ::_

- _Pro-Disclosure_ :: Neville, Susan, Boot, Brown, Patil, Diggory, MacMillan, Smith, Cuffe.

- _Anti-Disclosure_ :: Parkinson, Bulstrode, Burke, Zabini.

- _Status ::_ Bill Passed.

And, as always, thanks for reading.

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End file.
